


Dodging Water

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-21
Updated: 2001-01-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 14:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14792150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A quiet sailing trip turns into tragedy and leaves Sam Seaborn's life hanging in the balance.





	Dodging Water

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

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Dodging Water

A West Wing Story

By Dani L.

 

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Rating: PG

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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to the great Aaron Sorkin and Warner Bros.

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Spoilers: Take this Sabbath Day & Let Bartlet be Bartlet

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Archive: Yes, but please advise me beforehand. Thanks! Also, HTML version is available upon request.

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Summary: A quiet sailing trip turns into tragedy and leaves Sam Seaborn's life hanging in the balance.

 

This is my first West Wing story and there are a few people I would like to thank namely Charlotte for the info you gave me in regards to marina locations in the DC area. Robyn for being the best beta-reader in the business. And I can't forget Captain Red! Your take on Sam in "Demons" inspired me to write this story and I thank you immensely. Thank you for giving us the ESF Group, but above all I want you to know that "You are evil on so many levels!"<VBG>  I also want to thank my friends AJ, Flip, Dis, Kacey, Ali, Roo, Kasey.  Hugs n' Kisses to you all!!

 

**FYI:** On a boat, a mast is: A tall vertical pole that rises from the keel or deck of a sailing vessel to support the sails and running rigging. A boom is: A long beam extending from a mast to hold or extend the foot of a sail.

 

The following events take place before "What Kind of Day has it Been".

 

 

Atlantic Ocean

Sunday, 2:45PM

  ****

'Finally,' thought Sam as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the deck of his sailboat. He had been waiting for this moment for a few weeks now, and had thought it would never come. Since this was his first day off in almost three weeks, it had been a long time coming.

Nonetheless, here he was, sailing the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. He had tried to leave his cell phone and pager turned off, but couldn't bring himself to do so. Besides, being a member of the White House Senior Staff was more than a full-time job; it had pretty much become his life. But right now, he was taking time for himself, away from the White House, and especially away from Toby.

Closing his eyes and relishing in the cool wind coming off the water, he thought about the past few weeks, thanking God that they were now, in fact, in the past. He had always been able to cope with Toby's attitude, but this last week, it had become harder and harder for him to chew and swallow his boss' erratic and constant mood swings and derogatory comments about his speech writing. The pressures of trying to restore peace talks in the Middle East were wearing on everyone and to make matters worse, airline traffic controllers were threatening to go on strike if their collective agreement, which had been pending for the last few months, was not settled. Their demands were more than was initially expected and negotiations had not been going very well. The White House had been asked to intervene in the situation as mediator before things got out of hand, and Sam and Josh had been put in charge of resolving the dispute and avoiding a strike. Needless to say, Sam wasn't very happy when that was added to his already full schedule. 

He was also responsible for writing up the White House communiqués in regards to the peace talks, and Toby had been breathing down his neck, making sure that they were done on time and passed his white-gloved inspection. Sam had felt like telling him what he could do with those darn communiqués on more than one occasion, but he always bit his tongue. He knew Toby was as stressed as everyone else, and he was just being himself, but Sam was slowly losing the battle. One can only bite his tongue so often before the pain becomes unbearable. But acting otherwise wasn't in his nature. 

Sam knew Toby didn't act that way out of malice. Maybe towards others in some cases, but not with Sam. He had known Toby long enough now to know how the man thought, and had become very familiar with his sometimes grim attitude. 

He just played along with it, since he knew that was what Toby expected. That was the way their friendship worked and it suited Sam fine. If Toby was happy, so was he. If Toby wasn't happy, he simply coped. It wasn't that complicated. 

After days of negotiating with the air traffic controllers' union leaders, they managed to come to an agreement that both parties accepted. Sam and Josh were utterly exhausted, but the adrenaline rush was still flowing through his veins. Sam loved the feeling of authority being a lawyer gave him. He enjoyed debating the pros and cons of a situation, of dissecting them. He could go on for hours on a certain topic and never repeat himself. It was something that came naturally to him, and was what made him a good lawyer. He missed those days, but nothing compared to working in the White House and for the President of the United States of America. 

"I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States", he said to himself with a proud smile. When he first started working in the White House, he sometimes had to pinch himself. At first he would become so overwhelmed that he would have to stop what he was doing and refocus his thoughts. That feeling had since passed, but he would forever be grateful for it. 

Being the youngest member of the Senior Staff was a lot of pressure in the beginning. He thought he had to prove himself worthy to the group, but he had come to the realization that he was one of them, no matter his age, and that made all the difference. They were a team that worked as one. Same purposes. Same goals. 

One thing he hadn't realized when he accepted the job was that he would have to work for days on end without a day off. In this case, he had been working for fifteen days straight. Sometimes he worked late into the night, and was back at the office first thing in the morning�if he made it home at all�but Sam wasn't one to complain. He had a job to do and he did it to the best of his abilities. So did everyone else, for that matter. What counted was that they got the job done and done well.

The instant he found out he would finally have a day off, he didn't hesitate. His sailboat had been out of action for too long, and it was now time to take her out. The air was still cool, but that didn't bother him in the least; he simply dressed a little warmer before leaving.

He was wearing a long sleeved polo shirt, covered by his Princeton fleece sweater, a pair of jeans and a black Los Angeles Kings baseball cap placed backwards on his head. Considering he only had one day off, and God only knew when he would get another one, he had planned his day up to the last minute. Of course, Mallory had been a part of the plan at the beginning, but had had to cancel. Students from her school were having their annual weekend long nature field trip, and one of the chaperones had fallen sick. Mallory had been asked to replace her. Seeing that they were in a bind, she had accepted after speaking with Sam. He had been a little disappointed at first, almost wanting her to refuse. He hadn't spent much time with her as of late, except for a few quick lunches, but he understood what it was like to have a job with such responsibilities. Besides, he didn't mind spending the day by himself. After thinking about it, he was actually looking forward to it. He would definitely sleep in, something he hadn't had the pleasure of doing in too long, make himself a hardy breakfast of eggs and toast, pack his gear and enjoy the ninety minute drive out to the Soloman's Island Yacht Club in Maryland, where his sailboat was docked.

When he had decided to dock his boat out at Soloman's Island, his friends couldn't understand why he would keep it so far from DC. At first he hadn't either, but he soon found that it was perfect for him. It was a small club compared to others in the general area, and the other members there were mainly retired naval officers from the Patuxent River Naval Air Station, which was located not too far away. Being a high profile figure, he wanted to maintain as much privacy as he could, and he knew he would be able to get it there. Everyone knew him by name and he was well liked. They were all there to share the same passion, and they respected that. Sam couldn't have dreamt of a better place to dock his beloved sailboat.

For today, he had decided he would sail out of the Chesapeake Bay and head out for the open sea, and just enjoy the quiet, relaxing motion of the waves. He would return from his little escapade around five o'clock, giving himself plenty of time to get back to DC and meet Josh, who had convinced him to go out for a few drinks around eight o'clock. That, too, was something he hadn't done in a long time.

The weather forecast wasn't the greatest, thought Sam, reviewing the information he had received from the weather service before his departure. They were predicting a cloudy sky with increasing winds, but he wasn't going to let some wind and a slight probability of precipitation for the afternoon deter his plans. He loved being at sea, in control of his boat. 'The stronger the wind, the faster I'll go' he thought with a grin. He was always up for a challenge. Besides, he had warm clothes on and had his foul weather clothing if it got really bad.

He had to laugh when the picture of Josh wearing his yellow rain pants in the office popped into his mind. Josh had gotten drunk the night before at a bachelor party that had gone out of control and had ended up back at the office looking like death warmed over, and smelling like it, too. Donna had had to get his suit dry cleaned for a meeting with Joey Lucas, and the only other piece of clothing she could come up with for him in the interim were the yellow pants with the black suspenders. Sam only wished he had had a camera that day.

The forecast was also predicting a slight storm front coming up the eastern seaboard later that night, but he didn't worry about that. He knew he would be back before the storm front made its appearance.

His daydreaming was suddenly cut short when drops of rain hit his face. The wind has picked up in the last few minutes. A flow of anger started to build up within him.

"They must really hate me! What have I ever done to them? Why do they keep doing this to me?" he asked out loud, referring to the National Weather Service. This was the second time they had misled him, the first being when the President was to give a speech to the United Organization of Trout Fishermen. Due to the fact that the event was to take place outside, Sam had called for an updated weather report. First Lieutenant Emily Lowenbrau of the U.S. Coast Guard told him the weather would hold up till the afternoon, but to his dismay, she was so wrong. He could still hear the President speaking in the auditorium of the OEOB:

"As I look over this magnificent vista..."

Unfortunately, he hadn't changed the beginning of the speech and had overestimated the President, thinking he would be able to make the change on his feet, which didn't happen.

Sam slowly shook his head and sighed, realizing that getting mad about the weather wasn't going to change anything. He headed down below to get his yellow foul weather gear on.

"It's time to head home, baby," Sam said with a smile, patting the walls of his most precious possession. He came to the decision that he would end his outing a little early. Considering the track record of his weather information as of late, he didn't want to take a chance with that storm front. With his luck, it was probably a class five hurricane, he thought with a grin on his face. He headed back on deck, his heart a little heavy that his day at sea was soon going to end, but he resolved to take advantage of the trip back to the mainland.

The sail was taut, the wind blowing harder and harder with every passing second. The rain was now falling with more intensity. Sam was taken totally by surprise. He had heard of storms forming out of nowhere, but had never experienced any first hand.

He had to calm himself for a second, refocus his thoughts on his next move. He knew his boat and knew how to act in these kinds of situations. He had to act quickly because the wind was pushing him farther out to sea.

He decided to play it wise and safe, so he put his life jacket on and attached a rope to his waist, ensuring that the other end was tightly attached to the boat.

That was the first thing any good sailor would do. His next tasks were to bring the sail down, get the motor on, turn the boat around and head home. He had everything planned out in his head. Now it was just a matter of doing it. 

He approached the crank that would allow him to bring the sail down and started turning it slowly, as to avoid damaging it.

He labored against the wind, which was still picking up strength. 'Relax, Seaborn, just relax. Do this one step at a time,' he told himself, the feeling of oncoming panic forming in his gut.

"I will never trust the weather service ever again," he shouted out loud, trying to vent his frustrations, hoping it would calm him down.

After getting the sail down, he had to secure it to the boom. As he was making his way over to it, his foot slipped on the wet deck. He lost his balance and fell helplessly forward, the right side of his head colliding with the mast. He fell heavily to the deck as everything went black. 

 

 

 

He knew he had lost consciousness, but he couldn't tell how long as the sudden sound of the wind and the waves made their way to his ears.

The wind and the rain had picked up and the boat was swaying with the waves. He was cold and his whole body was shivering. He couldn't tell if it was from the cold or if he was going into shock. He tried to open his eyes, but only his left one would obey. He somehow managed to turn himself onto his back, breathing hard with the effort, his head throbbing with pain. He gradually realized he must have been out for a few hours, because the light of day had abandoned him, leaving him in the clutches of darkness. 

He slowly brought his hand up to the right side of his head. He knew before touching it that he was bleeding. He could feel the warm liquid running down the side of his cold face. He slowly touched his eye and winced in pain. It was completely swollen shut. His hand ventured to his forehead, where he found the source of the bleeding. A large gash that started above his eyebrow and went across his temple was leaking blood onto the deck. The whole right side of his face was throbbing. His mind was slowly processing the situation, knowing he had to get up, turn the motor on and turn the boat around. He took a few deep breaths, gathering all the strength and courage he could muster.

"Get up! Have to get up!" he murmured to himself, pushing the pain in his head and the onset of nausea deep into the back of his mind and concentrating on getting his legs to support him. 

He slowly managed to sit up, having to hold his head in his hands, hoping that would somehow silence the cries of pain screaming within it. Using the mast as support, he managed to stand up. Concentrating with all his might, he succeeded in maintaining a vertical position, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. Suddenly, a noise coming from behind him caught his attention. It was the sound of a turning crank, but with only one good eye, he couldn't pinpoint its location. Frantically searching for the crank in question, his gaze finally focused on the rigging for the boom, which also happened to be the source of the noise. The rope holding the boom in place was coming off its rigging. The long beam, having now lost its anchor, was under the control of the wind and was swaying in his direction.

His instinct was to put his hands up to somehow protect himself, even though he knew it was pointless. The boom slammed into him with a tremendous force. He instantly felt a sharp snap in his left forearm. Pain also exploded on the left side of his chest, but those sensations were thown aside when he realized his feet were no longer touching a solid surface. He suddenly became aware that he had been falling when he found himself plunging into the cold Atlantic Ocean. All his senses were brought painfully alive when the frigidity of the water seized his body. Thanks to his life jacket, his head remained above water, but that wasn't helping him much at this point. The impact with the beam had knocked the wind out of him, and he was desperately trying to get air back into his lungs without screaming from the pain in his chest. 

He quickly realized what kind of situation he was in and ordered himself to calm down and focus. He knew his life was in danger and if he didn't react fast, it was all over. The waves were tossing him left and right, colliding with him at each pass like a slap in the face to keep him conscious. He quickly grabbed the rope he had attached to himself earlier with both hands. He was aware that something wasn't right with his left arm, but he ignored the pain. He started tugging on the rope, slowly approaching the back of the boat where he had attached the other end of his lifeline. After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to him, exhaustion set in. he was losing the battle with the pain emanating from his head, chest and arm.

With his good eye, he strained to see how far he had to go. He could make out the shadow of the boat, bobbing on the water just a few feet away from him. All of a sudden, a wave picked him up and threw him, causing him to collide with the back hull, his left shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. The numbness caused by the cold water was no longer hiding the pain. He could feel everything now. A scream of agony and terror escaped his throat. His mind was teetering between clarity and oblivion. Dark shadows were blurring his vision and threatening to take over, but he pushed them away, knowing he was so close, so very close.

He frantically grabbed the wooden platform located near him and slowly hauled himself onto it. He lay there for a few moments trying to catch a painful breath. He wasn't sure if he could move anymore, but a little voice in the back of his head told him to get up. The boat was rocking more and more violently and he didn't know how long he could hold on to the platform. With the last ounce of strength he had left, he lifted himself up, grabbed the railing and pulled himself up and over it. 

He fell heavily onto the deck and let out a wail of pain. He tried to slow down his agonized breathing, but had no success. His whole body was shivering from the cold and the pain. His feet and hands were freezing, and his head was pounding relentlessly.

He knew he still had much to do. Get the motor on, turn the ship around, go home, but he had a feeling his body wasn't going to cooperate. He was fighting with all his might just to remain conscious as it was, and he knew getting all those things done was impossible at this point. 

Lying on his back, the cold rain colliding with his exposed skin, he looked towards the mast. 'At least the sail is down', he thought, assessing that that was the only positive thing going for him. 

"Just go with the storm, go with the flow", he mumbled. The dark shadows had returned, invading his mind and body, and he no longer had the strength to push them away. Before they completely enveloped him, he managed one last clear thought. "I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States of America."

 

 

  ****

Washington, D.C.

Josh Lyman had decided a long time ago that on his first day off, he would sleep, sleep and then maybe sleep a little more. He thought that was normal for a guy who sometimes got home around ten or eleven o'clock at night and had to be back at work for about seven the next morning. He had become used to that schedule, having done so for so long, but just the thought of turning off the alarm clock, sleeping in and just lying in bed was certainly a rare treat in his line of work. He was just going to do nothing and love every minute of it.

By three o'clock in the afternoon, though, he decided that lazy time was over. He was enjoying it a little too much, and realized that that wasn't a good thing to get into the habit of doing. He slowly took a shower, made himself something to eat and watched a little television other then CNN or CSPAN, which was something he also rarely did.

He was looking forward to his night out with Sam. Their plans were pretty basic: two best friends, a few drinks and a lot of laughs. What more could a person ask for?

At seven-thirty, Josh called for a cab and made his way to Sam's apartment with a huge grin on his face. 

A few blocks from Sam's place, Josh pulled out his cell phone and dialed his friend's home number to give him a heads up on his arrival. It rang a few times, then Sam's voice answered: 

  __

"Hi, you've reached Sam Seaborn. I can't take your call right now, but you can leave me a message or contact me on my cell phone at 555-6427. Thanks." Beep!

"Sam, pick up! It's me. I'm about three minutes from your place. Sam! Pick up, buddy!" Josh guessed Sam was probably on his way down to the lobby to meet him, so he hung up and dialed his cell phone number. It rang a couple of times before an automated voice kicked in: 

_"The person you are trying to reach is currently out of the service area. Please try again later."_

"What do you mean, out of the service area?" asked Josh, staring at his phone as if it would answer him. He tried the number again and got the same response. The cab suddenly stopped and Josh realized they had arrived at their destination. 

"Just hold on here for a minute," he told the cabbie as he jumped out of the car. The cabbie shrugged and put the car in park. Josh ran up to the main entrance and entered the lobby. He headed over to the panel that displayed the names of the all the tenants and their dial-in codes. Knowing Sam's dial-in number from memory, he immediately proceeded to press the code for his apartment. A regular beeping noise could be heard over the speaker.

"Come on, Sam, where are you?" Josh asked out loud. There was no answer, just the continuing monotony of the beeping. He cut the line and tried Sam's cell phone again, but still he got the same message: 

  __

"The person you are trying to reach in currently out of the service area. Please try again later." 

The message left him very perplexed. 'How could he be out of the service area?' Josh asked himself over and over again. He knew Sam couldn't have forgotten about their night out. They had confirmed it with each other the night before when they left the office. Besides, he knew Sam well enough to know that he wouldn't leave him hanging like this. If he were held up, he would have found a way to get in touch with him.

Josh knew that there had to be a logical explanation for Sam being late, but a little voice in the back of his head kept whispering to him that something was wrong. He quickly dismissed the thought.

"Hey, we're talking about Sam, here!" he muttered aloud, annoyed with himself for having those kind of thoughts, but the message from Sam's cell phone was still echoing in his head. He looked down at his cell phone again. 'How far away is out of the service area?' he thought again.

Just then, his cell phone rang.

"Well, speak of the devil," he said with a heavy sigh of relief, picturing Sam at the other end of the line. "Samuel Seaborn, where the hell are you?" he asked sarcastically. For a few seconds, no one answered. Then, an unknown voice was heard.

"Uhhh, I'm trying to reach Joshua Lyman", said the stranger, sounding a little unsure.

Josh was suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else. Yes, this is Joshua Lyman," he replied in a calm and professional manner.

"Oh, Mr. Lyman, my name is Scott Adams. I'm with the Soloman's Island Yacht Club. I'm calling regarding Sam Seaborn."

Again, there was silence on the line, both men waiting for the other to say something.

The little voice in the back of Josh's head returned, but this time, it was yelling that something was wrong. The man's tone was neutral, but Josh could tell that whatever he was going to say wasn't good news.

"What about Sam?" Josh asked nervously.

"Mr. Seaborn has named you as the person to contact in case of an emergency. Well, please do not get alarmed, but we might have one on our hands. Mr. Seaborn hasn't returned from his outing and we are unable to reach him by radio. We have tried on all bands with no result. It's not like him to sail at night, and the weather conditions at this time are getting rough. We've contacted the local marinas to see if he might have docked there, but he hasn't. The Coast Guard has also been notified, " Mr. Adams declared, efficiently laying everything out for Josh. His account of the situation was followed by a moment of silence, giving Josh time to absorb the information. "Mr. Lyman, one thing you have to keep in mind is that he could have had motor trouble, his radio might simply not be working, or... It could be a multitude of things. The steps we're taking are normal procedures for such events," he added, as to somewhat appease the man on the other end of the line.

Josh's mind was now working on overdrive. What was this man saying? What was he implying? He abruptly realized that he was extremely tense, his muscles flexed to their limit.

"I tried calling him on his cell phone and it said that he was out of the service area," Josh said, not really aware of having spoken; the words simply falling out of his mouth as if on automatic.

"So did we, and we got the same answer," replied Mr. Adams.

Josh could tell the man at the other end of the line was trying to be comforting, but he could sense the seriousness of the situation, and it scared him to no end. After coming to that conclusion, Josh didn't know what to say. 'What can I say?' he asked himself. Nothing that came out of his mouth now could change the situation.

Suddenly, an image started forming in his mind; an image of a body floating face down in the water. A body being tossed left and right by the powerful waves. A body. A dead body. Sam.

"Mr. Lyman? Mr. Lyman, are you still there?"

The sudden realization that his name was being called ripped the image out of his mind, and for that he was thankful. His body was even tenser than it had been a few minutes ago and despite an attempt to relax, his muscles wouldn't obey. His mind was in control, and it was on the verge of derailing. His thoughts were overlapping each other, and he knew he had to get a grip on himself. He had a serious situation on his hands and he needed a clear head to be able to deal with it. He was going to have to work from two different perspectives: one, as a guy worried to death about his best friend, and the other as the Deputy Chief of Staff of the White House, who had to take control of a situation involving the Deputy Communications Director. You could take the man out of the White House, but you couldn't take the White House out of the man, so the latter would have to take precedence for the time being, at least until someone else took control of the situation�or until he completely lost it.

"Yes. Yes, I'm still here," he finally responded, having regained some of his composure.

"Mr. Lyman, there is another matter that I wanted to bring to your attention. I tried to keep this situation as quiet as possible, but somehow the information that Mr. Seaborn is... " He hesitated for a moment before continuing, picking his words as tactfully as possible. "... _might_ be missing has leaked to the media. We have already received a couple of calls asking for details. Taking into consideration Mr. Seaborn's position within the White House, I'm not sure how this should be dealt with."

"What have you told them?" asked Josh, slowly regaining his professionalism.

"Simply that it's in the hands of the Coast Guard. I didn't give them any further information. How did they find out about this so fast?" asked Mr. Adams, somewhat perplexed.

"Any which way they can. That's their job. Besides, once the word got out, it probably spread like wildfire. Listen, who were you speaking to at the Coast Guard?"

"Lieutenant Brian Harvey."

Josh sighed heavily as he realized he didn't have anything to write on and was still standing in the lobby of Sam's apartment building. He made his way back to the cab, running to avoid getting too wet from the heavy rain that had been falling on the city for the past couple of hours.

"Okay, listen, uh...what was your name again?" Josh asked, the Deputy Chief of Staff half of him taking a step forward, but his other half, the friend, still peering over his shoulder.

"Scott Adams," the man replied.

"Okay, Mr. Adams, I want you to call me back in about twenty minutes. By then, I should be in my office."

"Sure, of course. And Mr. Lyman, Mr. Seaborn is a good sailor. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this and that he's fine."

Josh appreciated the words of comfort, but they didn't quiet the dreadful voice still present in his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Adams. Twenty minutes," he reminded before hanging up. Josh then realized, as he combed his hand through his damp hair, that it was now pouring rain, and the wind was picking up. 'If it's bad here, I can only imagine what it's like on the water', he suddenly thought. He quickly closed his eyes and pushed the thought away. 

"Where to now?" asked the cabbie, bringing Josh out of his daze.

"The White House," he responded while dialing a number on his cell phone. The cabbie stared disbelievingly at his passenger through the rearview mirror for a moment. With a shrug of his shoulders, he pulled into the traffic and headed for sixteen hundred Pennsylvania Avenue.

As he listened to the line ringing in his ear, a list of things to do was forming in his mind. All the people he had to contact, get together and organize. They were all piling up a little too fast for him to keep track of. He was relieved when the voice on the other end of the line made him refocus his thoughts.

"CJ Cregg."

"CJ, it's Josh. Listen, where are you?" he asked, his voice betraying his tension.

"I'm home. Why?" she replied, detecting his urgency.

"I need you go to get to the White House now. We have a situation on our hands and I've confirmed that the press is already onto it," he told her hastily.

"Josh, what's going on?" she asked with concern. Whatever it was, she knew she wasn't going to like it.

Josh was silent for a moment before answering. "Sam's...missing," he said, finally forcing himself to say the words.

"What?" cried CJ. "What do you mean 'missing'?" she asked, panic growing in her voice.

"He went out sailing this afternoon and he hasn't returned. He can't be reached over the radio. I got the call about ten minutes ago. I'll tell you the rest when you get there. I'm on my way now. Okay?" CJ didn't answer right away. It was now her turn to assimilate the news. Josh hoped she was handling it better than he had, but he doubted it.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" whispered CJ, absorbing the shock.

Josh could picture the expression on her face; her mouth gaping open, her eyes wide, and her hands shaking. He had to catch her before she lost it. "CJ! CJ! Did you hear what I said? I need you, okay? The press is going to be banging on the doors, so I want you ready for this. You can do this!" he assured her. "We don't know for sure what happened, but we have to stay positive," he added, realizing that he should also be swallowing the medicine he was dishing out. Josh listened to her breathing heavily on the other end of the line, trying to compose herself.

"Okay. I'm on my way. I'm leaving now," she finally responded. 

"I'll see you in a bit," he said before cutting the line and sighing heavily.

He looked out of the window to situate himself, guessing he was about ten minutes away from his destination. He opened a line on his cell phone and went through a mental list of the people he had to get in touch with first. He had expected the reaction he got from CJ, but while dialing the next number, he drew a blank. He was going to have to play it by ear. The phone rang a few times before its owner finally answered.

"Toby Ziegler."

"Hey, Toby. It's Josh. Listen, uh, something has come...ahhh...there's a situation, and I think, well, we're going to need you at the office." As soon as the words left his mouth, Josh knew it was a faux pas.

"Josh, what's with the ums and ahhhs? Will you get to the point? What's going on?" Toby said in his usual gruff and annoyed tone. "You know how much I hate vagueness."

Josh didn't know how to tell him. He didn't even know if he could say it again. Toby was a straightforward guy and he knew that at a time like this, it was better for him to be straightforward as well.

"It's Sam. He went sailing this afternoon. He hasn't returned and he can't be reached." Josh listened to the silence at the other end of the line for a moment, somewhat dreading Toby's reaction.

"I'm leaving now," Toby said, all the gruffness and annoyance gone from his voice. He hung up.

For a few seconds, Josh listened to the disconnected line buzzing in his ear, letting it drift him away from himself. He wanted so badly to simply shut his eyes then open them to find himself in a bar with Sam by his side, having a drink, just talking about everything and nothing. Just two best friends having a good time on the town. He wanted that so badly he could taste it, but reality grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back when the cabbie honked his horn at a driver who cut him off. Quickly shaking off his daze, he realized he still had the phone to his ear.

Toby's reaction left Josh wondering. He knew the Communications Director was very fond of his deputy. Toby often showed the opposite sentiment towards Sam, especially when it came time to write a speech. Toby would always criticize the young man; not enough action verbs, too much fluff! But in the end, Toby was always pleased with Sam's work. Sam knew it and Toby knew it. Josh regularly wondered about those two and the odd relationship they shared, but he knew for sure that it was solidly based on friendship and mutual respect.

Josh refocused his thoughts and dialed the next number.

"Leo McGarry," his boss answered after a couple of rings.

"Hi, Leo, it's Josh. Listen, we have a situation. Where are you right now?"

"I'm in my office," Leo responded. "What's going on, Josh?"

With that question, Josh found it safe to assume that the news had not yet reached the White House, so he was going to have to explain it once again. He dreaded having to speak those words. The last two times he had said them, he had felt a twinge of pain in the bottom of his stomach. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Sam went sailing this afternoon and he hasn't returned yet. He can't be reached by radio. I got a call about fifteen minutes ago. And the press knows about it. CJ and Toby are on their way in and I should be there in about five minutes," Josh blurted out.

"Is anyone out looking for him?" Leo asked, his voice laced with concern.

"The Coast Guard has been notified, but I haven't spoken to them myself yet. I'm expecting a phone call in the next few minutes with contact information."

"Okay," Leo responded, then sighed, worried. Something occurred to him. "Mallory."

Oh my God, Mallory, thought Josh, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He had totally forgotten about her. He then remembered that she was supposed to be with Sam today. He could only imagine how she was going to take this news. Sam and Mallory had become very close over the past few months and their relationship was blossoming. One could tell just by looking at them together that they were happy and that there was definitely love between them.

"I have to call her," Leo said, almost in a whisper, obviously realizing how much this news was going to hurt her.

They were both silent for a few seconds, trying to gain strength from each other.

"I'll be in the office in a few minutes," Josh finally said.

"Okay," Leo answered and then hung up.

Josh closed his phone and placed it in his pocket. He quickly glanced at his watch: eight twenty-seven. On impulse, he reached for his phone and dialed Sam's cell phone number. He kept his eyes closed as he listened to it ring...once...twice...

"The person you are�"

He didn't want to hear that message again. He decided he hated that voice. Hated it! He regretted making the call, but he had thought maybe, if by some chance...

With all his might, Josh tried to keep it together. He solemnly stared out the window as the rain beat against it monotonously. He couldn't help but fixate on the streams of water dancing against the glass. A shiver ran down his back as his mind suddenly transformed those simple streams into waves. Raging ocean waves. And on those waves, a body was being tossed left and right.

A dead body.

Sam.

 

 

 

The sea was mad. The waves were fierce and unforgiving. It was looking for something to focus that anger upon and the only thing it could find was a small sailboat aimlessly and hopelessly bobbing on its surface. Up and down, left and right, the craft was being tossed in all directions. On its deck, Sam Seaborn lay unconscious.

His body was shivering from its immersion in the cold ocean water and the constant rainfall. His right eye, still swollen shut, and the deep gash on his temple were now displaying tinges of blue, black and purple, making a huge contrast from his pale features.

Images filled the eye in Sam's mind: a room full of desks, an office dark with mahogany, a laughing woman with auburn hair. Who were these people? What were these places? Opening his eyes, all he saw were patches of light and darkness. The only sound he could identify was that of the water gently splashing against the side of his...the side of what? He blinked, but his vision wouldn't clear. He tried to raise his hand to his face, but it would not move. He realized his whole body wasn't responding and he was cold, deep, bone-shivering cold, and soaking wet. He tried to remember what had happened, what had brought him here, but he couldn't. His mind was a blank. He listened to the water again, finding it soothing and relaxing.

Suddenly, images started taking form. People. A big white building. A large city. He focused on the people, wanting so badly to associate them with their names and what part of his life they belonged to. The frustration of not being able to process the information was growing. He wanted to scream, yell out loud, but his voice was no more than a whisper, his throat dry and sore.

His breathing was coming in sharp, quick breaths, pain radiating from his chest. Panic started to engulf him. Then, all of a sudden, everything was clear. Josh, CJ, Toby, Leo, the President. His co-workers. His friends. The White House. His job. Washington. His life. Mallory. He lingered on that last thought, anchoring it in his mind. He wanted to be with her so badly right now. 

He needed her touch. He knew she could make everything better. She could take the pain, the panic and all the uncertainty away. She had that power over him. She made him feel good, whole, alive. Far from what he felt right now. He longed for her. He concentrated on the forever-imprinted image of her beautiful face in his mind, telling himself that as long as he could focus on her, he would find his way out of this place.

The battle was short-lived, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported into hell.

He was lying on a wet surface, being shifted left and right. Cold rain collided with his face, each drop causing pain. The peaceful sound of the waves was now a deafening crash as they collided with each other. The wind, making an appearance, was a howling roar. His body was awakening to reality and with that reality came tremendous pain. His head throbbed uncontrollably, pressure building inside his skull. The right side of his face was throbbing to the same beat as his head, pain radiating through and through. His chest was tight and on fire, a fire that was being fed with every breath he took, burning him from the inside. His left arm felt detached from his body. All he could feel was a prickling sensation from the tip of his fingers all the way up his shoulder. He tried to move, but he couldn't�this time not because his body wouldn't obey, but because the pain was simply unbearable.

He realized he hadn't opened his eyes. Everything was distorted and only his left eye would open. The falling rain only let him open it slightly, and all he saw was an angry, gray, cloudy sky looking down at him. A little to his right, he was able to make out the top of the mast proudly displaying the United States colors, tilting with the flow of the boat. Then everything came back to him: his fall, his head colliding with the mast, waking only to have the boom detach and impact him, throwing him overboard...

The last thing he even vaguely remembered was falling into the water, but he didn't know how he had managed to get back on board. All he knew was that he was ever so grateful. Evaluating his situation, he knew he was in trouble and there was nothing he could do. If he could move, make it down the ladder, he could easily call for help, activate the distress beacon, but his body simply ignored his pleas.

Suddenly, he felt himself become very heavy, his eye closing. The peaceful place where all his friends and Mallory were was calling to him. He wanted to go back to where he knew he was safe, where he didn't have to worry about his predicament, and where there was no pain. He slowly drifted back there, back into the welcoming arms of the woman he loved. He wanted to get out of this hell that had become his reality.

 

 

 

As Josh ran into his office, his cell phone rang. He had literally run all the way from the taxi into the building, through the halls and the Bullpen. He was thankful that only a few people worked at this time on Sunday night. He didn't feel like having to explain himself; his emotions were already too close to the surface as it was.

He had managed to put aside the watery graveyard image that had found itself implanted in his mind. It took all his concentration and focus to bring him to the point of being able to face what was ahead of him, because he knew it was going to be a very long and rough night.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket as he sat down at his desk, grabbing a pen and a pad in the process.

"Josh Lyman," he said upon answering.

"Mr. Lyman. Scott Adams here."

"Yes. Okay, Mr. Adams. First, any news?" Josh asked, having nothing to lose. He knew if there was a change in the situation, Adams would have called earlier, but he wanted to be sure.

"No."

Josh's shoulders sagged a little.

"But I was speaking with Lieutenant Harvey and told him to expect your call. He also said that he was getting information and confirmation requests from the media."

Josh sighed at the mention of the media. He found them unbearable at times, but always had to remind himself that they were only doing their jobs. He was sure some people found him unbearable at times as well. Give a little; take a little, he told himself. "We'll deal with that. Do you have his number?"

"Yes, it's 202-555-8679. That's the Coast Guard Station in Chincoteague, Virginia. Simply ask for Lieutenant Brian Harvey."

Josh wrote down all the information, mentally preparing himself to make a call he definitely didn't want to make. "Thank you very much, Mr. Adams. If you hear anything new, don't hesitate to call me. The more information we have, the better," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Of course. Uhmm...one last thing, Mr. Lyman. If we get any other calls from the media, do we keep directing them to the Coast Guard?"

"No. Redirect them directly to the White House. Thanks again."

"No problem," Adams assured him. "Our thoughts and prayers are with you," he added before hanging up.

Josh pondered those words carefully and realized he was going to need something to keep his feet on the ground and his head on his shoulders in the near future. He grabbed the phone on his desk and quickly dialed.

"Hello," answered a female voice after a few rings.

"Donna, it's Josh," he said morosely.

"Josh! I can only hope you're calling to invite me out for a drink or a night on the town. What happened? Sam stood you up? Oh, no! What am I thinking? I forgot who I was speaking�"

"Donna, I need you to come to the office. How soon can you get here?" he asked, cutting her off. He knew she was simply being Donna and he didn't want to explain the situation to her over the phone. 

"In about thirty minutes," she answered, her tone now serious, having obviously detected the urgency in her boss' voice.

"Thanks, Donna. I'll see you in thirty," he said, and hung up, not giving her a chance to ask what was going on.

Just then, his cell phone rang. He stared at it for a moment, his mind playing scenarios of who could be on the other line and what kind of information they were going to pass onto him.

"Lyman," he answered.

"Josh, where are you?" Leo asked.

"I'm in my office. I just got in. I was about to make the call to the Coast Guard," he said, his voice sounding very far away.

"Listen, come to my office. Make the call from here." Josh understood what Leo was trying to do and he was very grateful. "Are CJ and Toby here yet?" he added.

"No," answered Josh as he grabbed the sheet of paper and headed down the hall.

"Okay. I'll call the main entrance and have them come directly here."

"Add Donna to the list. I'm on my way," Josh said, and hung up. Leo would understand the need for Donna to be there. Josh was going to need all the help he could get.

Before heading to Leo's office, Josh made a detour to the Communications Bullpen. He had to give a heads-up to the people who were on duty. As he made his way into the Bullpen, he spotted Ginger. He was surprised to see her at work on a Sunday night.

"Ginger, what are you doing here?" he asked as he approached her desk.

She looked up at him, similarly surprised. "I could ask you the same thing," she said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. "I'm covering for Stacy. She called in sick," she added. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked.

Josh sighed deeply, preparing himself for the unavoidable. "A situation came up. Expect the phones to start ringing pretty soon. They'll probably be calling regarding Sam, wanting confirmation on him being missing, and�"

"What?" she exclaimed, cutting him off and jumping from her chair. "What do you mean 'missing'? What happened?" she asked, shock and fear plastered on her face.

Josh put his hand on her shoulder. "We're not sure of anything yet. He went out sailing and hasn't returned yet and he can't be reached by radio. The news got out to the media. Tell them there will be a briefing in about an hour," he said, taking a quick glance at his watch.

Ginger seemed lost for words, not knowing what to say or do. Her eyes focused on Josh, begging him for more information.

"That's all I know," Josh told her, almost defeated, anticipating her question. He wanted to appease her fears, but he didn't even have the strength to appease his own. "CJ and Toby are on their way in. We're going to be in Leo's office. Okay?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder in reassurance. She nodded her head. He gave her an encouraging smile he was sure wasn't very convincing at all and made his way out of the Bullpen as Ginger brought the three interns up to date on the situation.

As he walked down the hall, a phone rang behind him. He walked faster towards Leo's office, not wanting to hear the conversations.

As Josh entered Leo's office, Leo was hanging up the phone. The Chief of Staff looked up at him grimly.

"Mallory," Leo stated, shaking his head sadly. "She wasn't home when I called earlier. I left a message on her machine. She just called me back," said Leo, explaining himself.

"How is she?" asked Josh as he sat down in the chair opposite Leo.

"Not too good. She really didn't say much and I didn't have much to tell her."

Josh saw the guilt in Leo's eyes; guilt for not having more information to appease his daughter.

"She's on her way here," Leo added, obviously not very pleased about the outcome of the conversation with his daughter.

Josh knew Mallory could be as stubborn as her father and when she made up her mind, that was it.

For a few moments, an uncomfortable silence reigned in the office, their concern for Sam weighing heavily on both of them. Josh handed the information they would require to Leo, who took it and reached for the phone.

"Did you tell the President?" asked Josh.

"No. I was waiting to get more information before telling him. It's bad enough that we're here, worried to death. He's expecting the call?" Leo asked as he dialed. Josh nodded. "I'll put the call on the speaker phone". As the ringing was heard on the line, Toby came bursting through Leo's office door.

"Any news?" he asked, out of breath.

"We're calling the Coast Guard now," Leo said, pointing towards the phone.

Toby nodded and sat down in the vacant chair beside Josh. Josh glanced at him and immediately noticed how tense he was.

"US Coast Guard, Lieutenant Brian Harvey," the man announced as he answered.

Leo nodded at Josh to take the lead.

"Lieutenant Harvey, this is Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff of the White House," he said, leaning forward a little in his chair.

"Oh, yes, sir. I've been expecting your call. Mr. Adams gave me a few details regarding Mr. Seaborn, but I will need to ask you a few questions."

"Before that, what can you tell us? Is anyone out there looking for him?" interrupted Leo.

Lieutenant Adams didn't respond right away, surprised by the change in voices.

"Lieutenant, you're on speaker phone. Leo McGarry, the Chief of Staff, and Toby Ziegler, Communications Director, are here with me. CJ Cregg, the Press Secretary, should be joining us shortly," Josh informed him.

"Okay. Well, sir, to answer your question, I'm afraid I can't tell you very much, unfortunately. We do have a cutter and a helicopter on stand-by."

"What do you mean, stand-by? They aren't out there looking for him now?" exclaimed Toby, jumping from his chair.

"Sir, you must understand that we don't know exactly where he is. Since speaking with Mr. Adams, we have been closely monitoring the radar and we haven't detected any signal from his EPIR. Without that, we don't know where to start looking." 

"EPIR?" asked Leo.

"Emergency Position Indicating Radiobeacon. It's a distress signal device and as per our registration database, Mr. Seaborn's craft is equipped with one, but it hasn't been activated."

"What could that mean?" asked Josh, not really sure what to say.

"It could mean many things, but taking in consideration the weather, the fact that he's not responding to our radio hails and his cell phone being out of cellular range of shore, we are assuming he's out there and somehow incapacitated."

CJ happened to choose that moment to rush into Leo's office, and stopped dead in her tracks. The four members of the senior staff were floored. They were expecting this man to give them good news and here he was, practically telling them Sam might be lost forever.

"I do need to ask a few questions, Mr. Lyman. I have Mr. Seaborn's beacon registration file here, but I need more information," the Lieutenant said after a few silent moments, bringing them all back to reality.

"Uh? Oh, of course."

"Are you familiar with the route Mr. Seaborn usually navigates?"

"He usually comes out of the Bay and goes out for about fifty miles and comes back. The times I was with him, that's what he did," Josh told him, remembering those now precious moments. CJ approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He gently grabbed the one laying on his right shoulder and squeezed it, needing that comforting touch.

"Do you know what time he had planned on returning from his excursion?"

"I would have to say around five. We were supposed to meet around eight, and the drive from the marina to DC is about ninety minutes long," Josh answered as if on automatic.

"Do you know if he planned on making any stops?"

"He usually doesn't. He just goes out and back."

"And he was alone?"

"I'm pretty sure, yes." Josh flinched slightly at the last question. 'Sam's all alone out there. All alone.' That thought brought his emotions very close to the surface. He squeezed CJ's hand a little harder and she returned the quiet reassurance by squeezing his.

"Okay. This is what we're going to do. I am sending a helicopter out now. It's equipped with radar designed specifically for these situations. It focuses on the craft itself over a large area. I am also sending out a Coast Guard cutter. Taking into consideration the direction and strength of the wind and the time factor, we are going to start the search at a northern point and make our way south."

All this seemed unreal to them all. Listening to this man talk as if they were looking for a lost puppy only made them feel worse. They all knew Lieutenant Harvey was trying to be as supportive and professional as possible, but it nonetheless left them all with a bad taste in their mouths.

"What are the conditions out there right now?" asked Toby, now standing in front of the window, watching the rain descend on the city.

"They are slowly improving. The storm is presently losing strength and nautical conditions are fair. All in all, it could be a lot worse."

This tore Toby from his gazing. "A lot worse? How much worse can this get? Sam's in the middle of the Atlantic ocean somewhere, not answering his radio, not activating his beacon and probably _incapacitated_ and you think this situation could be a lot worse?" he shouted, his anger, frustration and fears all coming to a head. He quickly composed himself and dropped heavily onto the sofa, his hands frantically rubbing face, trying his best to maintain that composure.

Leo, Josh and CJ stared at him, wishing they had the courage to vent their emotions as well.

"I'm sorry about that, Lieutenant, but emotions are flying very high here right now," said Leo, maintaining his saddened gaze on Toby.

"That is quite all right, sir. I fully understand. Sir, could I possible have the number of a direct line where I could get in touch with you all."

"Yes, of course. I'll give you mine. It's Leo McGarry speaking by the way. It's 202-456-2020."

"As soon as I have any information whatsoever, Mr. McGarry, I'll get in touch with you."

"Lieutenant. One more question. What are the chances of finding him without the beacon? Honestly," Josh asked.

"Mr. Lyman, sir. Honestly, I couldn't say. If I did, I'd only be speculating and that wouldn't do us any good," the Coast Guard officer answered, his voice now coated with a layer of sympathy.

"So, basically, what you're doing out there is looking for a needle in a haystack?" Josh asked with a very uneven and cracking voice.

The line was silent for a moment.

"Yes, sir. Unfortunately, that would be an accurate description of our task here. Looking for a needle in a haystack."

 

 

After the conversation with Lieutenant Harvey, the four remaining members of the Senior Staff had sat in silence, the information they had just received slowly sinking in.

Leo would never forget the expressions of despondence and heartbreak etched on their faces. CJ sat beside Josh, holding his hand, a single tear running down her cheek. Josh, his gaze fixed on the floor, fought a losing battle with his emotions. Toby, sitting on the sofa, his face hidden in his hands, attempted to refocus the outpour of anger and fear that escaped through his rough carapace. Leo himself felt almost numb after hanging up the phone.

For a moment, he imagined what it would be like in the West Wing without Sam, but quickly dismissed the thought, angry with himself for even thinking it. He wanted to join his friends in their silent torture, but based on their demeanors, he knew they weren't in any condition to take control of the situation. He was going to have to take the reigns.

"Listen, I know all this sounds grim, but we can't give up on him. He wouldn't give up on any of us, now would he?" Leo asked, trying to get a reaction from them.

Josh and CJ nodded. Toby remained immobile.

"Okay. CJ, with the information we just received, I want you and Toby to prepare something for the press. Toby will fill you in on the information you missed. If you have to, call Lieutenant Harvey back for more details." He stared at her with concern, waiting for her reply. She looked up at him, another tear rolling down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand and nodded. Leo then turned to Josh.

"Josh, right now, what I need you to do is stay by this phone." Leo stood and looked down at his deputy. He knew Josh was in no condition to do any real work. If he let him go he would simply lock himself in his office until more news came their way. He wouldn't allow the young man to isolate himself. If they were going to get through this night, they were going to have to stick together.

"Where are you going?" Josh asked.

"I'm going up to the Residence to tell the President," Leo replied, making his way to the door. Before exiting, he stopped and turned, noticing his friends were not moving.

"Come on, people. We have work to do," he finally said, trying to encourage them. Leo watched Toby rise from the sofa. The Communications Director's red and watery eyes met those of the Chief of Staff. The sight grabbed at Leo's heart. He always knew Toby cared for Sam in that "Big Brother" kind of way, and it saddened him that it had taken this situation for those feelings to come to the surface. Toby's hard exterior was now breached and his inner feelings were seeping out. 'Only Sam could accomplish such a feat,' Leo thought, but quickly corrected himself. It was Sam's absence that was the culprit.

 

 

 

As Leo made his way to the Residence, he was running scenarios in his head. How could he tell the President one of his senior advisors was lost at sea and they had no idea whether he was alive or not?

As he approached the entrance to the Residence, his nervousness grew. Even after all this time as the President's Chief of Staff, as his best friend, no matter the situation, he hated giving him bad news, but this was different. It didn't involve national security, nor an international conflict, but something more profound and closer to home. Leo turned to one of the Secret Service Agents standing guard. "Where's the President?"

"He's in his private living room with the First Lady."

"Thank you," said Leo, heading in the direction. He approached the door and took a long breath of air before knocking.

"Come in."

Leo opened the door to find the President and the First Lady sitting side by side on a large sofa, watching a movie on the television.

"Leo!" the President exclaimed joyously upon seeing his best friend. "Come and have a seat," he added, pointing towards the armchair to his left. Abbey took the remote and pressed the mute button.

"Mr. President, Abbey," Leo said, giving them both a nod. "I'm sorry to disturb you during your private time, sir, but there's a situation developing that you should be aware of."

The President slowly got to his feet, studying the seriousness in Leo' face. His welcoming smile vanished and was replaced by the same frown that appeared on Leo's face. "What is it, Leo?" 

"It's Sam, sir. He's missing."

The President stared at him. Upon hearing those words, Abbey got up and walked over to her husband, placing her arm around his.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"He went sailing this afternoon. Around eight o'clock tonight, Josh got a call saying that he hadn't returned to port yet. We just got off the phone with the Coast Guard. They've commenced a Search and Rescue mission, but they don't really know where to start looking. His emergency beacon hasn't been activated and the storm front and winds are rough out there."

"Are they sure he's out there? Couldn't he have just docked somewhere else?" asked the President, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for Sam's absence.

Leo shook his head. "They checked that out even before they called. According to Josh, Sam was supposed to be back around five. They were going to meet tonight. If he was going to be late, he would have called Josh."

"What about his radio? His cell phone? He always has it on him," the President asked, again drawing at straws.

Leo could tell that he was desperately trying to come to terms with the situation and that he wasn't going to take this information very well, and was grateful for Abbey's presence. She was his anchor; she kept him grounded. Leo knew his best friend was a strong man who dealt with many crisis, armed conflicts and potential wars and was able to maintain decorum, strength and a steady mind and hand to deal with those situations, but this touched a little too close to home, and Leo was now seeing his vulnerable side. 

"He's not answering radio hails and his cell phone is out of the service area," Leo said, shaking his head. "Based on the information they have, the Coast Guard has assumed he's out there and incapacitated."

The President mutely tightened his grip on Abbey's arm.

"That would explain why he isn't answering the radio or activated his beacon. We're pretty much playing the waiting game now. The Coast Guard has a helicopter and a cutter out there searching with a special radar�"

"What do you mean, _a_ helicopter and _a_ cutter? You mean to tell me that there are only two teams out there looking for him? Do they realized that a member of the Senior Staff of the White House is out there?" the President yelled, cutting him off.

"Jed," pleaded Abby, trying to calm his outburst, but at the same time understanding where it was coming from.

"Mr. President," Leo said with a calm, reassuring voice, "they're very much aware of who he is and they are doing everything they can. Without a beacon to zero in on, they don't know where he is. All we can do is wait and pray he's okay."

Leo and the President maintained their gaze, trying to gain understanding and strength from each other. Leo was relieved to see his friend calm down a little.

"Josh, CJ and Toby are in the West Wing. Josh called them in. The press is aware that Sam's missing and is starting to ask questions. CJ's going to be giving a briefing soon. I'll inform you as soon as we get more information. I have to get back down there; Mallory's on her way over." Leo said as he headed for the door.

Abbey placed her hand over her mouth and murmured Mallory's name, having obviously forgotten about the young woman who had fallen for the handsome young man.

"Leo, how are they all holding up?" the President asked, his anger dissipated, now replaced by sadness and concern.

Leo wasn't sure how to answer that question. When he had left them a few minutes ago, they looked like they were all going to fall apart at the seams, but he couldn't bring himself to tell the President.

"As well as can be expected, sir," Leo answered, but his expression deceived him and the President caught him in the slip.

"I'll be down in a little while, Leo," the President told his friend.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Leo nodded and left the room, leaving his best friend and his wife to ponder the information.

 

 

 

Pacing the room seemed like a good idea at the time; it would calm his mind, which was running on overdrive. But after a few minutes, he realized it was only making things worse. More questions popped up and more uncertainties started piling one on top of the other.

"Jed, please sit down?" asked Abbey.

"How long can he survive out there? What if he fell overboard? How long could he survive in the water?" he asked, ignoring her plea.

"Jed, I don't know. It all depends on the water temperature, if he's hurt, if he's wearing a lifejacket...but you can't start imaging all these things, honey. You know Sam's a good sailor and he's prudent. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. Now, please sit down," she pleaded with him again. This time, he simply stared down at her, nodded and sat down beside her. He put his arm tightly around her shoulders, wanting to feel her close to him. 

"Abbey, be honest with me. You don't think there's a reasonable explanation for this, do you?" he asked with a sad grin.

She quickly opened her mouth to support her claim, but caught herself. She wanted it to be true, she really wanted to believe, but deep down, she knew that reality was on a crash course with the White House and its occupants, and that reality was going to be a difficult one for most to accept. It would leave them with a void, an absence that could never be replaced, for Sam's uniqueness was what made him who he was. Abbey could only hope he was still alive. In this situation, she knew better than to hide the truth from her husband; it would only make things worse. This went far beyond sparing his feelings. She stared deeply into his grieving eyes and shook her head.

"No, Jed. I don't. I'm sorry", she said softly, touching his cheek with her hand, trying to comfort him in any way possible.

 

 

 

As she entered Leo's office, Donna had to adjust her eyes to the darkness of the room. The only light was a small lamp on the desk. She made out a silhouette slumped in Leo's chair, facing the window, but couldn't make out who it was. She also noticed that person was on the phone.

"You have my word. As soon as I know anything, I'm on the phone...I know.... I will...You too...So do I. With all my heart, I pray to God it will be...I'll talk to you later...Okay...Bye."

Donna instantly recognized Josh's voice and simply listened to the conversation, not really knowing what to make of it. The receiver still hanging in his hand, he brought his other hand up to his face and covered his eyes, slowly rubbing them.

"Josh?"

He was taken by surprise and quickly sat up, turned in her direction and placed the receiver back on the phone. She was shocked when his face became visible. Even with the shadows reflecting on it, she could see the sadness, fear and traces of tears on his cheeks.

"Josh, what's wrong? What's the matter? Who were you talking to?" she asked, her voice heavy with concern. She knew her boss to be strong, and to see him like this scared her like never before.

"That was...uuhhmm...Mr. Seaborn, Sam's father," Josh explained.

"Sam's father? But, why...oh my God! Did something happen to Sam?" She suddenly felt weak at the knees and quickly sat down in the chair in front of Leo's desk.

"He's, uuhhmm...." He let out a sigh, composing himself before continuing. "Sam's missing. He never came back from his sailing trip. He can't be reached and they don't have a clue where he is. The Coast Guard is out there looking for him, but...." He closed his eyes tightly, slowly losing composure.

She suddenly felt a ball of guilt form in the pit of her stomach as she remembered what she had said on the phone when he had called her earlier, teasing him about Sam standing him up. She realized her guilt on the matter wasn't important right now, pulled her chair closer to the desk, and reached out and took his hand in hers. She wanted to say something, but no words would come out of her mouth. She could only imagine what was going through his mind. Sam was his best friend, that was a known fact throughout the West Wing, and the thought of losing Sam could only be killing him.

"Josh, if he's out there, they'll find him."

"Donna, don't you understand! He's in the middle of the damn ocean," Josh exclaimed, standing up from his chair. He made his way over to the window, slowly running his hand through his hair.

Donna was taken by surprise by the sudden mood swing, but she could tell Josh's frustrations and inability to do anything for Sam were weighing heavily on him.

"Why the hell did he go out there to begin with? He knew the weather wasn't the greatest! And he went out there alone! Alone! What was he thinking? For a smart guy, he can be so utterly clueless and stupid sometimes." Josh was yelling, throwing his arms in the air, his sadness now replaced by anger. He was silent for a moment, his face displaying the emotional turmoil occurring within him.

"What am I thinking? What am I doing? He's my best friend and here I am, getting mad at him for..." His voice cracked and he sighed heavily. "I almost forgot to call his parents, do you realize that? I was too caught up with myself...I could have stopped him. I could have gone with him, but I wanted to sleep in. Now how pathetic is that? I wanted to sleep in. Sam's mother is crying her heart out right now because I decided to sleep in instead of going with him."

Donna knew Josh was simply venting, that he really didn't mean what he was saying, but he seemed to believe every word, and that scared her. She looked at him with concern. His eyes were wild and his breathing heavy. She was waiting for him to fall off the wild horse he was riding. She got up and slowly approached him. Not knowing exactly what to say, she said nothing. He didn't run away from her when she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes, hoping she could convey her strength to him. She saw he was about to fall off the horse and took him in her arms. He lazily let his head fall on her shoulder.

"Oh my God... He's my best friend. He's all alone out there and I could have prevented this."

"Josh, you know darn well that's not true. You know that! And you know Sam wouldn't want you doing this," Donna said with a stern yet calm voice.

"I don't want him to..." He couldn't bring himself to say the **D** word. "I just want him back here, where he belongs."

Donna slowly rubbed his back, holding him tightly against her. She suddenly felt Josh's shoulders shake, followed by muffled sobs.

"It's okay, Josh. I know. Just let it out," Donna said softly as she continued to rub his back and gently sway left and right, holding Josh in her arms. As a tear found its way down her cheek, she silently prayed Josh's wish would come true, that Sam would come back to where he belonged.

 

 

 

CJ wasn't looking forward to the next few minutes. As she made her way to the briefing room, she desperately tried to come to terms with what was actually happening. For the past thirty minutes, she had been sitting in her office with Toby, compiling the information they had with that of the Coast Guard. The calls from the media were increasing, begging for information and confirmation regarding the missing Senior Staff member.

Having dealt with the press on a daily basis for the last year, she had come to understand their need to get the story. That was their job. But in regards to this situation, CJ was feeling nothing but contempt for them. 'Don't they understand what's going on here? Don't they realize we're talking about Sam? Can't they respect that?' she had asked herself.

Unfortunately, the press didn't see the situation with the same eyes as the White House staff. They saw a story, and they all wanted a piece of it.

She wanted to disassociate herself from the press and the whole process, but like them, she had a job to do. She finally concluded that she wasn't doing this briefing to feed the press' hunger, but for Sam. CJ wasn't a very religious person, but she did believe in good thoughts and that sometimes, they can go a long way. The more people who knew of Sam's predicament, the more good thoughts would hopefully make their way to him. She thought that was a little corny, but without it, she wasn't sure if she would be able to function. Nonetheless, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. 'It's either that or hope to find a needle in a haystack', she debated.

She stopped before opening the door leading to the briefing room, giving herself a moment to fully compose herself. She quickly wiped her eyes, making sure no tears were visible. With a deep breath, she opened the door and entered.

In the room, there were about fifteen journalists sitting, impatiently awaiting her arrival. No one had denied nor confirmed the information that was spreading and their patience was wearing thin.

"CJ! CJ!" they yelled, trying to get her attention. She put her hand up, indicating to them that she was in control of the briefing, not them.

"I'm going to read an official statement from the White House and after, I'll answer a few questions." She took out a sheet of paper that Toby had approved only a few moments ago.

"The White House wishes to confirm information pertaining to the whereabouts of Sam Seaborn, the Deputy Communications Director for the White House. At approximately eight o'clock, Eastern Time tonight, Joshua Lyman, the Deputy Chief of Staff, was contacted by a Mr. Scott Adams from the Solomon's Island Yacht Club in Maryland, stating that Mr. Seaborn had not yet returned from his afternoon sailing excursion. Following normal procedures and taking in consideration the bad weather conditions and the tardiness, they immediately proceeded to contact Mr. Seaborn via radio without any results. Marinas in the area were contacted, to ensure that he hadn't docked at any other location."

"We have confirmed that that is not the case. Attempts to contact Mr. Seaborn by cell phone were also fruitless. According to the cell phone company, his phone is currently out of the service area. At that point in time and confirming that Mr. Seaborn was scheduled to return to port around five o'clock, eastern time, the Coast Guard was notified of the situation and initiated a radar search for Mr. Seaborn's EPIR, which stands for Emergency Position Indicating Radiobeacon.

"Mr. Seaborn's sailboat is equipped with such a device and registered with the Beacon Registration Database through the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard has confirmed that his beacon has not been activated and therefore cannot determine Mr. Seaborn's exact location. Based on his usual route, time elapsed and the weather pattern, the Coast Guard has established a quadrant of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast where they presume he might be and have begun a Search and Rescue operation. They have dispatched a HH-60J Jayhawk helicopter and an Island Class Patrol Cutter. Both are equipped with radars designed to locate small crafts, especially in these weather conditions. We are in constant contact with Lieutenant Brian Harvey of the Chincoteague Coast Guard Station in Virginia." CJ put down the sheet of paper and sighed heavily. She had amazed herself by being able to get through that without losing her composure. She felt so strange referring to Sam as Mr. Seaborn. It was almost as if she was talking about someone else altogether.

"I'll take a few questions now," she said after clearing her throat and removing her glasses. The reporters all raised their arms, calling out her name.

"CJ! CJ!"

"Katie."

"CJ, you say that due to the fact that his EPIR hasn't been activated, the Coast Guard can't locate his craft. So why are they concentrating their search in the Atlantic? Why not the Potomac or the Chesapeake Bay? And what are the current weather conditions out there?"

"Well, because his cell phone is currently out of the service area and the service area includes the Potomac and the Chesapeake Bay, they have concluded he is still out on the ocean, which was his original destination. In terms of the weather conditions, as of about ten minutes ago, waves were estimated at between three to four meters high and the wind speed is approximately forty to sixty knots. Fortunately, the weather conditions are slowly improving, which will definitely help the Search and Rescue effort."

"CJ! CJ!"

"Steve."

"What makes you so sure he has his cell phone with him?"

"It's a known fact among the staff that Sam doesn't go anywhere without it, even on a day off, which was the case today and if he had forgotten it at home, it wouldn't be out of the service area."

"CJ! CJ!"

She surveyed the room and her gaze fell upon Danny. "Danny," she said, her mind on automatic.

"How are the President and the staff dealing with these events?"

The question took her completely by surprise. She was expecting a more technical question from Danny. This took her off guard and she had to choose her words carefully. She cleared her throat again before answering.

"We are all distraught and worried about Sam, but we are remaining confident that this will have a positive outcome." She decided to keep her answer short in case she said too much and her true feelings surfaced. "One more question. Kevin."

"What explanation do you have regarding the fact that his EPIR hasn't been activated?"

CJ focused her thoughts on the answer itself and not on the words or what they meant. She was dreading this question and promised to kick herself for taking one more. "There are many possibilities. His beacon could be damaged or there is a possibility that he is unable to activate it; that he's in some way incapacitated." There again, she decided to cut her answer short. She was on the verge of losing it, and she definitely didn't want to do so in front of the press.

"I will be back in about an hour with more information or as soon as more information becomes available. Thank you." She grabbed her portfolio and dashed out of the room before anyone else could accost her. Walking down the hall back to her office, she kept her head down, not wanting to face anyone at this time.

"CJ!" came a familiar voice behind her.

"Danny! Not now! This isn't a good time!" she practically yelled at him.

He caught up with her and put his hand on her shoulder. "CJ. I just wanted...I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

She looked up at him, her eyes red and glazed. "What do you think, Danny?" she asked sarcastically.

"CJ, I'm sorry," he said, taking his hand off her shoulder.

She looked into his eyes and saw they were filled with concern and sincerity. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. Look, I can't really talk right now, but thanks for your concern. I really appreciate it and I'm sure Sam would too."

He nodded and headed back to the briefing room. Before he turned the corner at the end of the hall, CJ turned around.

"Danny," she called out.

He stopped and faced her. "Yeah."

"Think good thoughts," she said.

He smiled back at her. "I already am, CJ. I already am," he replied.

She gave him a short-lived smile and continued her way back to the Communications Bullpen.

 

 

 

In his imaginary world, Sam was swaying with the calm waves. His eyes closed, he concentrated on keeping the pain at bay. It was starting to seep into his world of make-believe. He knew he couldn't stay there forever. Soon, both worlds would collide and he wouldn't be able to determine which was which. He wanted this nightmare to end before that happened.

But how? Think! Think! Think!

The pain was creating a haze in his mind and preventing him from conceiving clear thoughts. Then it suddenly dawned on him: the EPIR. If he activated it, they would be able to find him, then he could get warm, go home and hopefully the pain would go away. But he couldn't move. Or could he? With all his strength, he forced his mind to go back on the deck of his ship, with the rain and the cold and the pain. He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head. Pain exploded within his skull, but he pushed it aside. He could see a dim light coming from inside the cabin. He knew he had to move; his life depended on it. 

Sam had many dreams and aspirations, and he was fulfilling them by serving his country as Deputy Communications Director for the White House. The dream had only begun and he wasn't going to let this get in his way. Painfully, he concentrated all his strength on turning himself onto his stomach. He was amazed when he managed to do so, but cried out in sheer agony as the pain in his chest exploded. He concentrated on his breathing as darkness started to invade his vision.

I can do this. I have to do this.

Agonizingly, he started dragging himself with his good arm across the deck. Inch after painful inch.

 

 

 

As Mallory made her way to the White House, she tried her best to remain calm. She had decided to take a cab, not really trusting her driving abilities right now. Her hands were unsteady and a chill had found residence in her spine. Nervousness and fear had claimed her body and her mind wasn't far behind. Her father hadn't given her many details regarding the situation, but the combination of him telling her Sam hadn't returned from his outing and the sadness in his voice were all she needed to know to make her call a cab and head directly for the White House. Her father gave her the impression, by his tone of voice, that he didn't think it was a good idea, but she didn't care. She wanted to be there, where she knew she could get exact information and also because she didn't want to be alone. She needed her father's presence, his reassurance. 

As she made her way down the hall to her father's office, her muscles tensed, her body preparing itself for the blow she was probably about to receive. She entered and stopped after a few steps, taking in the sight in front of her.

Josh and Donna were sitting side by side on the sofa while her father sat on the coffee table in front of them. Three pairs of eyes turned in her direction. Her father's were loving, yet filled with concern. Donna's resembled Leo's, but sadness was also apparent. When she made visual contact with Josh, she almost cried out. She had never seen Josh look so defeated, so lost. His eyes displayed his emotional state like an open book. The redness and puffiness were also evidence that he had been crying. That could only mean one thing. Mallory instantly brought her hand to her mouth, trying to contain her emotional outpour.

Leo, realizing she was reading the situation based on Josh's appearance, quickly made his way to her side.

"Honey! No." He turned back and looked at Josh, who also realized what was happening and in response, hid his face in his hands, feeling guilty for making Mallory think the worst.

"Mallory, sweetie," said Leo, trying to divert her attention from Josh. He placed his hand on her chin and turned her head to face him. Her eyes were now a mirror image of Josh's. "We don't know anything yet," Leo whispered, trying to appease her. "Here. Come with me," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and directing her out of his office. He realized Josh's state had obviously absorbed all her attention and if he was going to get through to her, he had to get Josh out of her sight. Before exiting the room, Leo turned to Donna. "I'll be in the Mural Room. Come and get me if there's a call."

Donna simply nodded.

Mallory let her father motion her to the room across the hall from his office. She didn't know what to say or do, so she just let him guide her. He sat her down on the sofa in the large room. Only a small lamp was lit, its shadows accentuating the colorful walls and the sorrow on Mallory's face.

"Honey..." Leo said softly, sitting in front of her and taking her hands in his.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she asked, looking up to her father, her eyes begging him for comfort.

"We don't know, Mal. We really don't know. They're out there looking for him. They're doing everything they can to find him."

"What did they say? What did they tell you?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that question, but decided to take the same approached he took with the President. "They don't know where he is. His emergency beacon hasn't been activated. He isn't answering his radio and his cell phone is out of range." Leo sighed heavily before he continued.

Mallory noticed his hesitance. "Dad, I want to know," she pleaded.

"They're assuming he's somehow incapacitated and that's why he isn't answering the hails or activated his beacon." Leo decided he wouldn't tell her what the Coast Guard had compared the search to. She had heard enough as it was.

Mallory looked at her father with confusion written all over her face. "But, if there hasn't been any word, Josh..." she said, confusion infiltrating her fear.

"Josh just let his emotions get the best of him. He's the one who got the call about Sam and got in touch with Toby, CJ and me. He's been through a lot tonight. He's also convinced all this is his fault. Something about him not going with Sam and sleeping in instead, which is totally ridiculous," said Leo, trying to decipher the logic behind Josh's guilt trip.

As he was talking, Mallory was processing what he was saying, but she stopped on the words regarding Josh not going with Sam. Then it dawned on her. She was supposed to be with him today. All of a sudden, a traffic jam of 'what ifs' started piling up in her head.

"Oh God!" she softly whispered.

"What is it, baby?"

She quickly stood up and started pacing the room, frantically combing her hands through her hair. "No. No. No," she continued to whisper.

"Mallory, what is it?" asked Leo worriedly.

Mallory turned to her father; her eyes were no longer reflecting sadness, but were now the picture of horror and panic. "Dad, I was supposed to be with him," she told him.

"What do you mean? You were on the field trip."

"I wasn't supposed to go on that field trip. One of the chaperones got sick and they asked me to fill in at the last minute. They were in a bind, so they asked me. Sam and I talked it over and...something to do with responsibilities. We agreed and I said yes, but I was supposed to be with him. Out on his boat. Oh God, Dad. What if�"

"No, Mallory! No!" Leo said, cutting her off. He quickly stood and ran to her, taking her in his arms. "You're not doing this. I have enough of Josh pulling a guilt trip. It's not doing anyone any good and it's not helping Sam. Do you understand me?" he said, taking her face in his hands. She looked back at him, her eyes filled with tears. "Do you understand me? Don't go there! I won't let you. This is no one's fault. We just have to wait. And pray. Okay, baby?" he said, his voice soft and loving, trying to make his daughter see the light. She nodded. He held her tightly in his arms again.

"Dad?" she said, now quietly sobbing.

"Yes, honey."

"I think I love him," she said as her sobbing increased.

Leo didn't know what to say. It was hard to tell if it was just the emotional baggage of the situation or her true feelings talking. One way or another, it ripped at Leo's heart that it took such an event for her to express her feeling about Sam to him. He realized that words would probably not suffice to console her aching heart, so he just held her in his arms, being the shoulder for her to cry on.

 

 

 

His throat was raw and dry. Every movement he made to get closer to his goal made him cry out in agony. Every few inches, he had to stop to try to control his breathing, which was now coming in ragged and painful breaths. He tried not to stop for too long, afraid he wouldn't be able to start moving again or that he would pass out. He felt like he had been at it for hours, when in fact it had only been a few minutes. 

In his head, a three-way duel was playing out. A little voice reminding him over and over again that he didn't want to die; he had to stay awake and focus on reaching the emergency beacon. Another voice was telling him it wasn't worth the pain; he didn't have the strength and he should just give up and welcome death.

The third presence was the most domineering and it had a name: Pain. Sam decided to concentrate on that one, not that he could ignore it screaming in his head, but if he felt the pain, he knew he was still awake, still alive and therefore, still had a chance.

With that decision taken, he persevered, but then another problem he hadn't thought of presented itself: how was he going to get down the steps of the cabin if he could hardly drag himself a few feet?

 

 

 

CJ felt almost lifeless as she threw her portfolio on her desk and let herself drop into her chair. The words she had just spoken were repeating themselves in her mind like a broken record and she could feel the tension mounting throughout her body. All of a sudden, she shivered as a dreadful feeling enveloped her. It was so abrupt it actually scared her. At that moment, she decided she no longer wanted to be alone. She quickly got up and marched out of her office. Unconsciously, she made her way to Toby's.

As she approached his office, CJ scanned the Bullpen and all the long faces present. Ginger glanced up and acknowledged her with a weak smile. She looked into Toby's office. He was sitting in his chair, his legs raised, his feet laying on his desk and his hand slowly massaging his eyes. She slowly tapped on his open door. 

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied without looking her way.

She let herself drop onto his sofa. "Any news?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"No," he answered. He sighed heavily.

CJ didn't know what to say to him. Toby was often referred to as being an emotional enigma. She didn't know how to approach him, to get him to open up to her or if he wanted to open up to anyone. His outburst in Leo's office had taken everyone by surprise, probably even himself, judging by the look on his face. CJ had to wonder if Toby had suddenly become aware of his true feelings for Sam. It always saddened her that people often realized their true feelings for someone in situations like this. In most cases, the guilt of not having expressed them in the past was the hardest thing to overcome. She prayed Toby wouldn't have to live through that experience.

"You did a good job with the press," he said suddenly.

"Thanks," she responded, grasping for anything else to add. "Toby?" Slowly, he took his hand away from his eyes and looked at her. Meeting his gaze, she was now looking into her friend's bloodshot, watery eyes. His emotional stare pierced into her heart like an arrow. Her throat instantly constricted as an overwhelming tidal wave of feelings overtook her.

Neither of them able to say anything, too afraid of what might come out of their mouths, they simply maintained their gaze. A gaze that spoke a million words.

"I know," Toby said softy, saying everything that needed to be said between them.

Just being with each other right now was better than any pep talk.

 

 

 

Cathy and Bonnie made their way into the Bullpen at a panicked pace.

"Ginger, any news?" Cathy asked as they both approached her desk.

Ginger had called her two friends just before the press briefing was made. She didn't want them to learn about Sam from the news. Ginger sprang to her feet and ran to her friends, the three sharing a comforting embrace.

"No, nothing," she said, shaking her head sadly.

"What exactly happened?" Cathy asked, having only gotten a brief summary of the events from Ginger when she had called.

Ginger told them what she knew and what was going on. As she continued, grim expressions began etching themselves on Cathy's and Bonnie's faces. The thought of losing someone they worked with day in and day out was bad enough, but the fact that that person was Sam only made things worse. Having become quite close to their bosses since the campaign, the three women couldn't imagine Toby without Sam. Sam was the ying to Toby's yang and vice-versa and after having to endure Toby Ziegler's grim and sometimes-furious attitude, Sam's gentle and calm presence was always a relief and greatly appreciated.

"Where is everyone?" asked Bonnie while taking her coat off.

"They're kinda spread out. Toby and CJ are in there," Ginger said, pointing towards the closed door of Toby's office. "Donna is with Josh in Leo's office and they told me that Leo's with Mallory in the Mural Room."

They silently thought about the members of the Senior Staff and how hard this must be for them, knowing how close they all were.

"Is there anything we can do?" Cathy asked.

Ginger sighed sadly before she answered. "No. Not really. The phones have been quiet since CJ gave the briefing. All we can do now is wait."

The three women sat at their respective desks and silently sorted through their emotions, and prayed this night would end with the safe return of their young boss.

 

 

 

He seriously thought he would never make it, but what he didn't realize was that the hardest part was yet to come.

Sam had finally made his way across the deck of his ship. He was unaware of how long had taken him, but he was pretty sure he had lost consciousness a few times along the way. He simply couldn't tell how many times or for how long. He knew he had to act quickly, for his strength and willpower were almost tapped out.

Sam lifted his head slightly and peeked into the cabin. His vision was blurry and distorted, but he could make out the radio and emergency beacon about midway through the cabin. His biggest obstacle right now was the steps. He knew it would take all he had left, but would it be enough?

To be so close and yet so far, he thought.

Slowly and carefully, he filled his lungs as much as he could without screaming out in pain, which wasn't much, and gradually started moving his legs towards the hatch. Still lying on his stomach, he pushed himself backwards, his feet looking for the steps. The pain was screaming in his mind again. The strain was becoming unbearable.

He realized he was crying. The realization that death could actually be a possibility, that the sea he loved could be his deathbed made him angry, and he pushed himself to the limit. He let himself drop to the floor of the cabin after giving one last push.

Painfully, he managed to sit up, his head swimming dangerously close to oblivion, his left arm hanging uselessly on his side, his chest protesting every breath.

He slowly made his way down the narrow hallway. Lifting his head, he saw the EPIR and on it, the button he had to press. With his last ounce of strength, he pushed himself up and extended his good arm. He reached out a little more, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold this position very long.

Reaching into reserves he didn't even know he had, he let out a loud bellow as he pushed himself forward just that little bit more. He suddenly felt his finger come into contact with the button that might just save his life. He instantly heard the beeping noise indicating that the beacon was engaged and the signal was being emitted. Upon hearing that noise, he gave up the fight and crumbled to the floor.

Sam let the pain overtake him as he passed out. He didn't want to feel anything for a long time, therefore he was oblivious to the voice over the radio, calling his name, begging him to answer.

 

 

 

The President leaned against the doorframe of Leo's office, quietly looking at the four silent people inside. He noticed the defeated look on Mallory's face. He knew his Goddaughter had deep feelings for Sam and it hurt him to see her this sad. His gaze then turned to Donna and Josh, who were sitting close to each other on the sofa, holding hands, supporting each other. The President was sure Donna was doing most of the supporting though. It saddened him to see Josh in such a state. He looked like a devastated little boy. For a moment, he put himself in Josh's shoes and imagined how he would feel if he was sitting there and Leo was lost in the middle of the sea. The most horrible feeling overcame him and he immediately took Josh's shoes off. His heart ached at the thought that Josh had been feeling like this for the last few hours and that he, on the other hand, couldn't take his shoes off. He shook the thought away and entered the room.

Upon noticing the President, the four occupants all stood.

"Mr. President," Leo said, coming out of his daze.

The President motioned for them to remain seated. "Any news?"

"None yet, sir," Leo answered.

"Josh," the President said, staring down at him. Josh slowly raised his head and his sad, red eyes met those of the President. He didn't have to ask Josh how he was feeling or holding up. The President could read all the fear, sadness, anger and despair through his gaze. He had to do something to stop the hurt. He sighed deeply and turned to Leo. "Leo, get on the phone with the Coast Guard. I want them to get more helicopters and more cutters out there. I want them to search every square mile of sea off the coast," he practically yelled, his voice heavy with anger and worry.

CJ and Toby made their appearance in Leo's office and were, like everyone else in the room, taken aback by the President's tone of voice.

"Sir, they know�"

"No, Leo, they don't know. If they did, we would have heard from them by now. They would have found Sam, but have they? No. That's why I want you to get on the phone and tell them to do something about it. Even better, I will get on the phone and order them to find him!"

The President's outburst took everyone by surprise, but they all knew when he made up his mind on something, there was no way to divert him. Before anyone could reply, the phone rang. Everyone in the room jumped.

Leo leaped to his desk and grabbed the phone. "Leo McGarry."

Everyone stared intently at the Chief of Staff, trying to read the expression on his face as a one-sided conversation took place.

All of a sudden, Leo's face lit up and he smiled. A spark of hope spread throughout the room. As suddenly as the light on Leo's face had appeared, it faded.

"Okay. How long? As soon as...okay." Leo hung up the phone and surveyed the group of people in front of him as they silently pleaded for him to say something.

"His emergency beacon activated about five minutes ago. They've pinpointed his exact location and should be there within thirty minutes," announced Leo.

Josh sighed loudly and pulled Donna into his arms, hugging her tightly, his relief abundant. CJ and Toby did the same. Mallory raised her head, her eyes closed, whispering a prayer of thanks. The President didn't take his gaze off his friend, knowing there was more.

"He activated his beacon. That means he's alive. He's okay," Josh practically cried, not addressing anyone in particular. He needed to say it out load to believe it.

"What else, Leo?" the President asked.

Everyone turned his or her attention back to Leo.

"Uhm. When the beacon activated, they tried hailing him again, but there was no answer and usually the beacons are placed beside the radios. So..." Leo hated having to break that news to them.

The grim expressions returned to all their faces as they realized the next thirty minutes would probably be the longest of their lives.

 

 

 

As the Search and Rescue helicopter made its way in the direction of the newly activated beacon, its crew sighed in relief. According to their radar, the current location of the sailboat was nowhere within their established search quadrant. It was farther north than they expected. The helicopter pilot, Lieutenant Senior Grade Allison Ford, even asked for a second verification and confirmation that the beacon truly belonged to the craft they were looking for and not some other poor soul lost at sea.

"Whoever this schmuck is, he's damn lucky. Without the beacon, God only knows how long he would have been out here," said the co-pilot, Lieutenant Junior Grade Kevin Ramsey.

"Ain't that the truth, but I don't know what kinda schmuck he is, though. You heard what Harvey said. Apparently this guy is one of the President's senior advisors. I think we're all a little lucky tonight. Can you imagine having to go the President and tell him we couldn't find one of his guys?" replied Lieutenant Ford.

"What's his name again?"

"Seaborn. Sam Seaborn."

The weather over the sea had calmed down considerably in the last few hours and that was another cause of relief for the crew of the Jayhawk. The sole occupant of the sailboat still wasn't responding to hails, which meant they were probably looking at an emergency extraction. The weather was now on their side for a hopefully smooth rescue.

"Okay, guys, we're about five minutes out," announced Lieutenant Ford, alerting the two men in the cargo area of the helicopter.

Seaman First Class Benjamin Fisher and Petty Officer Christopher Doyle were preparing themselves for all eventualities. Fisher, being a corpsman, was busy going through his medical backpack, making sure he had everything, and closing it watertight. Next to him, Doyle was giving the lines and hooks one last look over.

"How long till the cutter gets here?" asked Fisher through the mike in his helmet.

"Their ETA's a little over an hour. It's just us on this one, guys," announced the pilot.

"Okay. I want to get the basket and backboard ready for descent now, so we don't waste any time later," Ben Fisher told his fellow officer. Chris Doyle nodded his agreement as he stepped to the back of the cargo hold and retrieved the elongated metallic basket and placed it beside the door.

"Okay, Chris, get that spotlight on and shed some light on the matter," said Lieutenant Ford.

"Yes, ma'am!" The young man reached for the door handle and with a swift tug, opened the long door. He turned on the spotlight and directed its intense light onto the bubbling ocean below.

"We should be just above it now," announced the co-pilot, his eyes glued to the radar. For a few seconds, Doyle couldn't make anything out below him, the low clouds interfering with his vision.

"We're going to have to take her down some. The clouds are too dense up here. I can't see anything."

"Okay, taking her down twenty feet," said Ford as she executed the maneuver.

As they traversed the wall of clouds, their view cleared up and below them, bobbing on the surface of the open sea, was the object of their search.

"I have a visual," announced Doyle, scanning the craft with the spotlight. Beside him, Fisher was leaning over the edge with a pair of binoculars.

"It seems to be intact. No signs of structural damage, but I detect no signs of life."

As if on cue, Lieutenant Ford engaged the speakers located in the front of the helicopter.

"Ahoy below! This is the Coast Guard Search and Rescue! Mr. Seaborn, if you can hear me, please come up on deck! I repeat! This is the Coast Guard Search and Rescue. If you can hear me, please show yourself."

"Nothing," announced Fisher after a few seconds, still looking through the binoculars.

"Okay, Benny. You ready for a little ride down below and see if there's anyone home?" asked the captain.

"Ready and willing," he replied, removing his helmet and replacing it with a wireless headset.

"Test! Test! Do you copy?" he said into the small microphone.

"We copy you load and clear," replied the co-pilot.

Fisher quickly grabbed his backpack and threw it on his back, snapping it securely around waist and chest. He approached the petty officer, who was waiting for him, ready to attach the hook to his harness. Giving it a hard tug, the young seaman looked up at his superior officer and gave him a thumbs-up.

"As soon as you send the word, I'm down there with the basket," said Doyle, patting Fisher on the back.

"I'm looking forward to your company, Chris," he answered. Before commencing his descent, Seaman First Class Ben Fisher closed his eyes and muttered a short prayer. It was one he always recited to himself in situations like these. He was never sure what kind of situation he was descending upon, but in each case, he always hoped to find someone on board, injured or not. He knew if they were hurt, he could help them, but if he found an empty ship, there weren't many options as to where the occupants could be. It made his job that much easier, but it was sometimes hard to live with the thoughts and images afterwards. He quickly made the sign of the cross on his chest and made his way out in the open. The mechanical pulley came to life and started lowering him to the sailboat on the ocean surface.

 

 

 

As his feet landed on the deck, Ben Fisher quickly detached himself.

"I'm down. Bring 'er up!" he said. Seconds later, the heavy line disappeared into the dark night. He quickly removed his backpack, allowing him more maneuverability. He then noticed a rope lying across the deck. One end was tied to the railing on the back of the sailboat and the other end made its way down into the cabin. Without wasting any time, and his heart filled with hope, he followed the rope. With a loud sigh of relief, he found the other end attached to the waist of a man lying on his side in the middle of the narrow hallway. He looked up and mouthed a 'thank you'.

"Lieutenant, I've located the occupant," he announced into his headset as he made his way over to his patient. He reached into his backpack, grabbed a pair of surgical gloves and his stethoscope.

"What's his status?" came the voice of the pilot.

"Assessing now," he replied as he quickly put the gloves on and unzipped the injured man's soaked lifejacket. As he placed his stethoscope on his chest, he glanced at the young man's face. He grimaced when he saw the pronounced swelling of his right eye and the deep gash on his temple. The paleness and the expression of pain engraved in his features made his frown grow. He then returned his attention to the task at hand as he heard the sound of a heartbeat in his ears. Yes!

"Lieutenant, we have a live one down here. Chris, get down here on the double with the basket."

His three teammates detected the urgency in his voice.

"I'm on my way, Benny." The co-pilot exited his seat and made his way to assist the petty officer by taking control of the pulley.

"Benny, talk to me!" said Ford, realizing she was becoming a little anxious. She had to report back to base and was hoping the news she had would be positive. The fact that the President of the United States, her Commander-in -Chief, was impatiently waiting and probably worried sick did nothing to appease the anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach.

Before continuing with his examination, Fisher meticulously placed a cervical collar around Sam's neck.

"Mr. Seaborn, can you hear me?" he yelled. "Sam, can you hear me?" The corpsman pursed his lips, a little worried that he was getting no response whatsoever from the injured man.

"Lieutenant, before we move him, I want to make sure he's stable," he said as he continued the examination.

"How bad is it?" the pilot asked.

"Well, it's not too good from what I can tell. Possible head and eye trauma. Right eye is severely swollen, could be some corneal damage, not sure. Breathing is labored." As he said that, he reached for his bag and pulled out a small oxygen tank and mask and placed the latter over Sam's mouth and nose. He then went to grab Sam's left wrist to take his pulse and immediately noticed the unnatural shape of his forearm. Carefully placing the arm down again, he took out a pair of scissors from his bag and started cutting through Sam's yellow rain coat and sweater. Fisher now had a better view of the injury. Sam's forearm was a dark shade of blue and black and was bent in the middle.

"Okay, you can add an angular fracture of the left forearm to that list, L.T.," he added hastily. "What happened to you?" he softly asked his unconscious patient. At that moment, Petty Officer Doyle made his appearance in the cabin.

"Not sounding too good, Benny," he stated, having listened to the conversation between the paramedic and the pilot on his way down. 

"No, it's not," he replied, having just finished taking Sam's pulse. "His pulse is slow and thready. I'm going to need your help here, Chris." Doyle made his way beside his comrade and looked down at the injured man lying on the floor.

"What the hell happened to him?" he exclaimed, alarmed by the deplorable state of the man.

"I wish I knew. Look, we have to do this quick. I think he has a few broken ribs and the onset of pneumonia. I don't like the sound of those lungs." Fisher got up and moved over by Sam's head.

"Okay, we're going to turn him onto his back and watch out for the left arm. On three." Doyle quickly got down on one knee and placed one hand on Sam's waist and the other on his back. 

"One, two and three."

Slowly and gently, the two men rolled Sam from his left side to his back in one careful motion, keeping his body as straight as possible. Doyle, now noticing the rope around the injured man's waist, took out the knife from his belt and cut through the lifeline, discarding it to the side.

"Do you want to start a IV line?" Doyle asked, having assisted his friend in many situations like this.

Fisher shook his head. "No. It'll take too much time. I'll do it once we get him in the air. What we need to do now is secure that arm and bandage his head and eye." He reached for his bag and pulled out a large roll of gauze and sterile padding along with another pair of gloves. "Put these on," he ordered as they traded places. Once the petty officer had the gloves on, Fisher passed him the padding.

"Place that over his eye and the gash. Make it a few layers. Then wrap the gauze around his head to keep them in place, but not too tight and try not to move his head," the corpsman instructed as he was again searching through his pack.

"Got ya," responded Doyle.

Fisher finally found the appropriate splint for the fractured arm. Even though he knew his patient was too out of it to feel any pain right now, he nonetheless proceeded gently when he manipulated the broken and swollen appendage. He gritted his teeth as he felt the two pieces of the broken bone rub against each other. He immediately realized the injured man would require surgery to repair the break.

"Done," announced Chris.

Fisher glanced at his friend's handiwork. "Good job," he said approvingly.

Doyle nodded his thanks and headed up on deck to retrieve the backboard.

"L.T., you read me?" the paramedic asked through his headset.

"Loud and clear, Benny," the captain replied.

"We're getting the basket now. We're gonna have to deliver him ourselves. What's the closest hospital? One with a trauma center?" The Lieutenant sighed heavily.

"I'm contacting the base now for that info," the pilot replied.

Doyle appeared with the wooden backboard. Carefully, they placed the board beside Sam and gently slid it under him. Fisher also pulled out two secure blocks and placed them on both sides of Sam's head. They made sure the straps were tight, placed the oxygen tank between his legs and both took one end and lifted. Doyle climbed the steps backwards and Fisher raised his end so Sam remained horizontal at all times and slid the board onto the deck. Fisher gathered his equipment, placed it in his pack and swiftly threw it on his back. Both men placed Sam in the metallic basket and hooked it up to the lowered line, and he was hoisted up.

 

 

 

Once the basket was secured to the floor of the cargo hold, Fisher removed the headset and put his helmet back on. 

"Okay, Lieutenant. What's the news?" Fisher asked as he grabbed his scissors and started cutting away at Sam's lifejacket and clothes so he could continue his examination with more precision.

"Base says the closest Trauma Center is Brookdale University in Brooklyn. They're trying to patch them through to us."

"ETA?" asked Fisher.

Ramsey looked down at the radar, still amazed by how far north the sailboat had traveled. "About thirty minutes," he finally answered.

With Doyle's assistance, Fisher continued to cut away enough of Sam's clothes so he could an insert an IV line. Once he managed to get the needle in and the drip going, he started making a mental list of his patient's vitals. With his stethoscope around his neck, he went to work.

After a few minutes of silence and patience on Fisher's behalf, the hospital was finally put through on the radio.

"This is Doctor Thomas, Brookdale Trauma Center, go ahead," came a staticy female voice.

"Doctor, this is corpsman Seaman First Class Ben Fisher. Our ETA is approximately�" He quickly glanced at his watch. "�twenty to twenty-five minutes. We have a male, aged between thirty and thirty-five. Multiple injuries, cause unknown. Pulse is thready. Respiration ten and shallow. Breathing is labored on both sides. Trauma to the head and eye..." He continued giving the attentive doctor the information she would need to assess the situation.

After ending the transmission with the hospital, Ben Fisher sat down beside his still-unconscious patient and looked at his watch. It was almost one o'clock in the morning. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to this man. If only he had had time to examine the boat, but that was the least of his worries at the time. The crew of the cutter would deal with the details once it arrived on the scene and tow it back to port. Whatever happened, Fisher was sure this man, Sam Seaborn, probably went through a personal hell. Judging from his injuries, the lapse of time between the first attempt to contact him and the beacon being engaged, Ben was sure his trip to hell had been a long, painful, and agonizing one. And it wasn't over yet.

"Did Base contact the President yet?" he asked the pilot.

"I gave Lieutenant Harvey the details. I'd have to say he's talking to the President right now." She had decided, and Harvey agreed with her, to hold on advising the President until they knew a little more about the injured man's condition and where they would be transporting him. She didn't want to jump the gun, considering who they were dealing with. She was sure the President and his staff would be elated and relieved to know Sam Seaborn was alive and on his way to the nearest hospital, but she was glad she wouldn't be the one to tell them he wasn't out of the woods yet. From what she heard, he was far from it.

 

 

  ****

The White House

No one dared to break the silence that had settled in Leo's office. Everyone was simmering in their own little world, alone with their thoughts and fears. Every few minutes, they would all glance at the clock or their watches, each time expecting it to go by a little quicker than the last time.

Josh had finally detached himself from Donna's side and was now standing by the window, watching the last remnants of the passing rainstorm. Toby was sharing the sofa with Donna. He was being as reclusive as he had been in his office, with his head down and his hands covering his eyes. He was being too quiet as far as everyone was concerned, not having said a word since he'd entered the Chief of Staff's office with CJ.

Donna kept a careful eye on Josh, waiting for him to snap again. His patience, as well as everyone else's, was wearing dangerously thin.

CJ wasn't able to remain in one place, suddenly realizing she had been pacing ever since the phone call. She caught a glimpse of Josh and slowly approached him. Without saying a word, she slid her arm around his and leaned against him. She needed the contact and she was sure he did as well. She was relieved when he didn't push her away. He slowly placed his hand on hers without taking his eyes off the window.

Mallory was still sitting in the chair she had been occupying for almost two hours, her gaze lazily focused on the floor, her mind a bustle of activity. Going against her father's orders, she had allowed the traffic jam of "what ifs" to become a major pile up and she couldn't see her way through it. It took all her self-control to stop herself from screaming out loud.

The President, sitting in the chair beside her, was going through a document he had taken off Leo's desk. He was looking down at the pages, but couldn't make out the content. He could read the words, but they made no sense. He rarely let his emotions get the better of him, but in his situation, surrounded by these people, his friends, his family, he couldn't help himself. Their sorrow, fears and sadness were contagious, and mixed with his own emotional anguish, it made for an explosive combination.

Leo was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, staring at the phone, silently begging it to ring. He had never realized how slowly time went by when you actually paid attention to it and it was driving him crazy. The silence in his office was getting on his nerves. His body tensed at the thought of what this impending phone call represented. It was one of two things: life or death. Either there really was a reasonable explanation for all this and Sam was fine, aside from maybe a few bumps and bruises, and had a long story to tell, or...

"Okay! It's been almost forty minutes now! Why haven't they called! What the hell are they doing out there?" exclaimed Josh after looking at his watch and extracting himself from CJ's embrace.

Leo's thoughts were interrupted and he concentrated his gaze on his deputy. "Josh�" Again he was interrupted, but this time by the ringing of the phone on his desk.

Everyone looked up, their faces filled with anticipation and dread.

Leo looked at them before grabbing the receiver. "Leo McGarry," he answered, his voice uncertain and edgy. He listened carefully for a few seconds. "Yes, Lieutenant. Before you go on, I'm going to put you on speakerphone." He pressed a button on his phone and set down the receiver.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," Leo said.

"Thank you, sir." Lieutenant Harvey was well aware of how long these people had been waiting to hear news, any news, about their missing friend and co-worker, therefore he decided to get straight to the point. "They've found him and he's alive."

A gigantic sigh of relief escaped from everyone. All their fears and anguishes suddenly seemed so unimportant and far away. Josh let out the breath he had been holding since the phone rang and let his head fall back in relief, whispering 'thank you' over and over again. Donna jumped up and approached him, giving him a hug. She was so pleased to see a smile flourish on his face. Toby finally vacated his spot on the sofa and made his way next to CJ, taking her hand and gently squeezing it. The President leaned over and placed a comforting hand on Mallory's back. The young woman had pretty much the same reaction as Josh. Although in her case, silent tears of happiness flowed from her tired eyes.

Leo took in the scene playing out in front of him. We're going to be okay, he thought to himself.

"Where is he now? Is he on his way back to DC?" asked Josh, his voice filled with excitement.

"Uhm... No. Unfortunately, he was somehow injured. That's the reason why he wasn't answering his radio. Right now, the SAR team is on route to Brookdale University Trauma Center in Brooklyn," answered the Lieutenant, his voice filled with sympathy.

The smiles on all their faces suddenly vanished.

"But, he's okay, isn't he? It's nothing too serious," said Josh as he approached Leo's desk, his last comment sounding more like a stated fact than a question.

"I don't know all the details, but I know he was found unconscious. He apparently suffered a head trauma and several other injuries�"

"What do you mean, 'head trauma', 'other injuries'? What the hell happened out there? How was the beacon activated?" interrupted Leo, spitting out questions with his voice a little louder than he intended.

"They determined Mr. Seaborn activated it himself somehow. The rescue team wasn't able to determine what happened though. Once they realized the seriousness of his condition, they stabilized him as quickly as possible and got him in the air. I wish I had better news, but the corpsman on board the chopper has pronounced his condition as very serious."

The room was flooded with a dreadful silence. Everyone's face reflected disbelief.

The President approached Leo and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I don't understand. Why are they taking him to Brooklyn? Why so far away? Why not the Trauma Center at GW? Or Georgetown?" asked the President.

"Well, sir, simply because Brookdale's Trauma Center is the closest to their location." The Lieutenant realized an explication was in order. "You see, sir, his sailboat was located farther north than we anticipated. He was actually located outside of the perimeter we were searching."

"Lieutenant, you mean to tell me that if his beacon hadn't been activated..." The President was unable to make his mouth say the words and the thought alone was sending a chill down his spine.

"Yes, sir. His boat would have continued on its northern course."

The President, looking at his staff and the looks of shock on their faces, decided it was time to concentrate on the few positive aspects that had been delivered to them. Sam was alive. He was on his way to a hospital where they would take care of him. He's alive, he repeated to himself. If that was all they had to go on for now, it would have to do, and hopefully those positive aspects would multiply.

The President rested his gaze on Josh's devastated expression. Again, he put himself in Josh's shoes and imaged what would be going through his head and what he would want at this time. After a few seconds of pondering, he knew what he had to do. "Lieutenant Harvey, have you been in contact with the hospital?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell them that members of my staff will be arriving within he next hour and a half," the President announced, his voice filled with authority. All eyes in the room looked in his direction in surprise.

"I will do so, sir."

"And how long before Sam gets there?"

"Approximately twenty-five minutes, sir."

"Good. Lieutenant, thank you."

"Yes, sir. If there are any other developments, I will get in contact with you immediately, sir," the man responded to his Commander in Chief.

Leo leaned over his desk and disconnected the line. A long moment of silence weighed heavily throughout the room. Everyone was waiting for the President to explain how they were going to make it to Brooklyn in ninety minutes.

"Leo, get on the phone and contact the base. I want the Gemini I here ASAP."

"Yes, sir," answered Leo, as he grabbed the receiver and frantically dialed the number.

Five surprised and grateful gazes were staring at the President.

"I know this isn't the outcome we wished for, but we can't dwell on that. We have to concentrate on the fact that Sam's alive, he's safe and he's no longer alone," he said solemnly. "We were lucky tonight. Very lucky. He could have slipped through our fingers so easily and we would have lost him forever." The President couldn't stand the look of despair on their faces.

"I know how you all feel. I'm worried and scared too, but Sam managed to activate the beacon despite his condition. He didn't want to die out there. He's a fighter and so are all of you. Don't let your emotions cloud what's important here: he's alive. He didn't give up on himself, so don't you give up on him." The President turned to Leo when he hung up the phone.

"The helicopter will be here in about fifteen minutes, sir," the Chief of Staff told him, a grateful smile making an appearance on his face.

The President nodded and turned his attention back to his staff. "Go be with him. Make sure he's not alone anymore." He nodded his head in the direction of the door. "Hurry up. Your ride will be here soon. And I want a phone call as soon as you get there. I want to know what's going on and how he's doing."

Toby and CJ made their way out the door, glancing at their generous boss with thankful smiles. Mallory didn't move from her chair, somewhat unsure if she was included in the invitation. The President had said he was sending members of his staff and unfortunately for her, she wasn't one of them. Her Godfather looked down at her, sensing her uncertainty.

"Mallory," he said.

She looked up at him. He nodded at her with a smile. She rose from her chair and tenderly hugged him.

"Thank you," she whispered as she let go of him and glanced at her father, who also nodded at her. She left the room quickly, almost as if she was scared the President would change his mind.

Donna and Josh made their way to the door as well, but before he exited, Josh turned around and approached the President. "Thank you, sir," he said, his voice a little stronger than it had been earlier.

Jed Bartlet, looking at the young man standing in front of him, suddenly saw a reflection of himself from years ago. A strong, determined, caring and smart young man with a heart as big as Texas. A saying then came to his mind: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. He knew there and then what he was doing was the right thing. For him, for his staff, and for Sam.

"Go see your best friend, Josh," the President replied. A faint smile appeared on the Deputy Chief of Staff's tired face. He nodded and left the room. The President sighed heavily. He wanted to go with them, but he knew how complicated that could be. He then turned to Leo. "You should go," he suggested.

Leo shook his head. "I'll stay by the phone, just in case. Besides, someone has to stay here and run the country," Leo replied with a grin, some of the tension of the night's events having escaped him. He stood there, looking at his best friend, suddenly realizing the waiting game wasn't over yet. All of a sudden, most of the tension returned and installed itself within him for the long run.

 

 

 

The helicopter ride was mostly spent in silence and reflection. Josh had convinced Donna to come with them. Toby and CJ thought it was a good idea, realizing Donna's presence might be needed if things didn't turn out as they hoped. The images of an injured and suffering Sam haunted them all, but at the same time, the words of the President resonated with them.

'He's alive.'

Unfortunately, it did very little to appease their worries. If Sam's condition was as serious as the lieutenant let on, there was a chance they might still lose him and for the five helicopter passengers, that was unacceptable.

"What time is it?" CJ whispered to Toby, unwillingly breaking the settled silence.

Toby didn't acknowledge her. He simply sat there, looking directly ahead, his face expressionless.

"Toby?" CJ asked again, trying to rouse him from his daze. 

"Uh, sorry. What?" he asked her, a little taken by surprise.

"What time is it? I don't have my watch."

Toby slowly glanced at his. "Two-twenty," he responded.

They had been in the air for about forty minutes now, but it seemed like an eternity to CJ. She kept glancing at the tired faces around her and wondering if they were thinking the same things she was. She needed to know, she wanted to know, for the thoughts in her head were all too dreadful for her to cope with alone. She wanted so dearly for them to stop grabbing at her every time she managed to relax and think of something else. They were literally haunting her every moment. She came to the realization of just how much Sam meant to her.

He wasn't just some person she worked with day in, day out. He was much more, as were all the members of the Senior Staff. After working so closely with these people for the last two years, spending most of their waking hours together, they had all become an extension of one another. It was an unavoidable conclusion that they would become so close to each other and it was a fact CJ truly cherished. She considered and loved the group of men she worked as brothers. Their bickering, teasing and friendship reflected that very well. But there had always been something special about Sam, and she knew the others felt the same. Maybe it was the fact that he was the youngest of the group, that he projected an aura of innocence wherever he went. Perhaps it was his boyish looks, or his caring and soft-spoken nature, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that he had this certain 'je ne sais quoi' about him that just made you like him and want to be around him. He was like their kid brother.

A feeling of utter helplessness tugged at CJ heart. She tried sending all the good thoughts she could in his direction, but it didn't seem like enough.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked Toby, needing to break the monotony invading her thoughts.

"What do you mean?" he replied, obviously aware of what she was referring to, but unwilling to be up front about it.

"You know what I mean, Toby." She wanted to express her feelings; she had to get them out in the open. She knew Toby probably wanted to as well, but being the person he was, it went against his nature. He was probably still shocked by his own outburst earlier in the evening, having not expected his feelings to break through and speak for themselves.

"I'm thinking about him too. I can't stop thinking about him," she said.

Toby turned his head and looked at her, a surprised look on his face. He hadn't expected her to suddenly open up like that. He was going to respond sarcastically, but nothing came to mind. It shocked him that he couldn't come up with a cutting reply. He wanted to avoid this conversation by any means necessary and his self-defense mechanism was on the fritz. And it wasn't because of the situation; he knew that. He rarely let his emotions overcome that gruff and hard aspect of himself, but he realized he was overwhelmed with the same feelings CJ was expressing. He knew what he had been feeling all night, but had not yet accepted and confronted it. He slowly took her hand in his. "Since when do you read minds?" he said, trying to get a grin out of her. She relinquished a small and brief one.

"I just have this feeling�" she began.

"CJ," Toby interrupted, shaking his head. "No. Don't. Give Sam some credit. He made it this far. We all see him as this naive, innocent and nerdy kid who needs looking after, but he's so much more then that."

CJ met Toby's gaze, realizing he was finally opening up again, but this time he was in control.

"Think about it, CJ. How many people can stand to put up with me when I'm at my _best_ and then come back for more?" Toby smiled slightly despite himself. "I know I'm not the easiest person to work with, but he never complains. He just takes it, chews on it a little and swallows it with no aftertaste whatsoever, and then comes back for seconds. He's determined, persistent and stubborn and because of that, he's going to get through this and come out on the other side even stronger. And we need him for re-election and he knows that," he added with a grin. "He hasn't let us down yet and I don't think he will now."

At this point, Josh, Donna and Mallory also became captivated by what Toby was saying. He quickly became aware that all eyes were on him and he suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

CJ knew there was more to what Toby was feeling, but she wasn't going to push her luck. Nonetheless, he had opened up to her and the others without realizing they were all listening, and that was more then any of them expected, but again, it only touched the surface. What he said had renewed their hope and confidence that Sam was going to be okay.

CJ repeated the President's words in her mind: 'He's a fighter and so are all of you. Don't let your emotions cloud what's important here: he's alive. He didn't give up on himself, so don't you give up on him.' The President had called them fighters. Now, she couldn't let the President of the United States look like a liar. She looked over at Josh, Donna and Mallory and realized Toby's words had hit home for all of them.

CJ sighed heavily, breathing in and out slowly, calming her tense muscles. Still holding Toby's hand, she sat back in her seat and focused on sending good and happy thoughts Sam's way.

 

 

Forty-five minutes later, the five friends were relieved when they finally landed on the hospital helipad. The hospital had given them special clearance to land, obviously aware of who they were and who sent them. Josh was walking ahead of everyone, his pace getting quicker and quicker as they approached the Trauma Ward. He approached the main counter and looked around for assistance. A young woman suddenly entered the small office and noticed the agitated man standing at her desk.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked as she approached him.

"Sam Seaborn. We're here for Sam Seaborn. He was brought here by a Coast Guard helicopter," Josh said, his voice filled with apprehension.

"You must be members of the President's staff?"

Josh nodded. She made her way out of the small office and joined them. "We've been expecting you. A private waiting room as been prepared. If you'll follow me." She turned around, prepared to guide them down the hall.

"Before we go anywhere, I want to know how Sam is," Josh snapped, planting his feet on the floor, obviously refusing to move until his question was answered.

She faced the angry and worried man, fully aware of all the emotions running through him. "Sir, Mr. Seaborn is in good hands. If you'll come with me, I'll bring you to the waiting room and have the doctor meet you there. She'll fill you in and answer all your questions."

She was obviously used to dealing with people reacting like Josh, as she spoke in a calm and reassuring manner, attempting to appease the man. Donna gripped Josh's arm, trying to persuade him to follow the woman's instructions. They all followed her down a hall into a small room. In it, there was a long sofa and chairs on one side and a television mounted on the wall on the other.

"If you want to make yourselves comfortable, I'll go get Doctor Thomas. By the way, my name is Kelly and if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me. I'll be at the desk." She gave them a slight nod and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Josh sighed heavily. "Now how long are they going to make us wait here?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

As if on cue, the door opened and a middle-aged, dark-haired woman entered. "I'm Doctor Helena Thomas, Chief of Trauma," she said as she approached the small group.

Toby stepped forward and took her outstretched hand.

"We were advised that the President would be sending members of his staff, we just didn't expect you here so soon."

"The President has a way of making things happen fairly quickly. I'm Toby Zeigler, Communications Director. This is Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff; CJ Cregg, Press Secretary; Donna Moss, Mr. Lyman's assistant, and Mallory O'Brien." They all exchanged nods.

"How's Sam? Can we see him?" asked Josh frantically, getting straight to the point.

"Why don't we all sit down," suggested the doctor with a smile, indicating the sofa and chairs in the corner.

The small group didn't take that as being a good sign, but complied nonetheless. As soon as they were all seated, five piercing and impatient sets of eyes glared at the doctor.

"Mr. Seaborn's condition is serious, but he's presently stable and that's a very good sign. But I'm not going to lie to you, he suffered some serious injuries."

"Where is he now?" asked Toby.

"He's presently in surgery. They brought him in about ten minutes ago."

"Surgery? Why does he need surgery?" asked Josh, panic engulfing his voice, his mind picturing the worst.

"He suffered an angular fracture of his left forearm."

"What do you mean by 'angular'?"

"Something pretty hard collided with his arm and that caused the bone to splinter and snap. The bones were actually lying at an angle to each other. With these kind of fractures, there is typically nerve damages and the chances of infections are high, so we got him into an operating room as soon as we could."

They all winced upon hearing her explanation.

"He has a hairline skull fracture that we are monitoring very carefully as well as a long, deep gash on his temple that required multiple stitches. We did a CT scan and there doesn't appear to be any brain damage or a buildup of pressure. Nonetheless, head injuries can be very tricky, so we're not taking any chances." She paused for a moment, giving the group time to absorb the news.

"He also has a condition called hyphema. When he hit his head, his eye was impacted as well, and that trauma caused blood to accumulate around the pupil area of the eye. Right now, the area around his eye is extremely, swollen which isn't helping."

"How serious is this condition?" asked CJ, somewhat afraid of hearing the answer. 

"Very serious. It can cause loss of vision or blindness. In his case, he's already showing signs of acute glaucoma. What that means is that pressure is building up around his eye and reducing the blood supply to the nerves of the retina and the optic nerve, which is causing it to deteriorate slowly. So, what we have to do is get the pressure down, and we're giving him medication that should do just that."

"What if the medication doesn't work?"

"We would have to go in surgically to remove the pressure. We have an ophthalmologist on call who'll be examining him again once he's out of surgery and hopefully by then some of the swelling will have gone down, as well as the pressure. Unfortunately, that isn't our main concern right now."

The five concerned friends braced themselves, getting ready for another blow.

"He's developed pneumonia. He has four broken ribs on his left side, which is making it very painful and impossible for him to breathe normally, so his breathing is very shallow and that is limiting the movement of the air in his lungs. That is what set the pneumonia off. That, and the fact that he was out in the cold and completely soaked for hours. It was unavoidable."

"He's going to be okay though?"

"Like I said, his condition is serious. We're feeding him with a full range of antibiotics to help with the pneumonia and as long as there are no complications with his head injury, he should be fine. But I must warn you, he is going to have a lengthily recuperation. His ribs could take up to six weeks to heal. He'll require physical therapy for his arm, and his eye...well, we'll have to see how that will progress. After the surgery, we'll be transferring him to the ICU, so that we can monitor him for the next forty-eight hours. Once we have him installed, you'll be able to see him."

"How long?"

"It all depends on the amount of damage the fracture caused, but I'll come and get you right away," she promised with a soft smile.

"Do you have any indication as to what happened out there? How could he have gotten all these injuries?" asked Toby, finally asking the questions that had been bothering him since this all started.

The doctor shook her head. "We honestly can't tell. All we can estimate is that his injuries are about five to ten hours old. Hopefully, he'll be able to answer that question himself once he's awake." When she was told members of the White House staff were on their way, she had expected to meet with a group of people who had come to act as watch guards and simply asses the situation, being the eyes and the ears of the President. She hadn't expected them to be the heart as well, nor to be so genuinely expressive of their feelings.

They're obviously more than just co-workers and care a great deal. He's very lucky to have such a group of devoted friends, she thought, glad her patient had people he could lean on. After what he had gone through, he was going to need it.

She stood from her chair and examined the group again. Her heart went out to these people, who looked so haggard and lost. She had been briefed on the situation and could only imagine what they had been going through during the last few hours, the uncertainty, wondering if their friend was alive or not. And now, here they were, relieved that their worst fear was not realized, but made to wait again. It was a vicious circle.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked, breaking the few moments of silence.

They were still absorbing the news and preparing themselves to play another few hours of the waiting game with hope that this round would be a little easier on their nerves then the last.

"I'm going to call the President and Leo," Toby said, addressing his co-workers. He then turned to the doctor. "The President will probably want to speak with you about Sam. He prefers to get information directly from the source, and I think in this case, he'll not only demand it, but also appreciate it."

She almost laughed as a sudden buildup of nervousness rose from her stomach as Toby so nonchalantly told her she was going to speak with the President of the United States of America, but her professionalism kicked in instantly and she managed to hide her sudden onset of the jitters. "Of course. If you want, you can make the call in my office. It's just down the hall," Doctor Thomas suggested.

"Okay. Thank you." Toby rose from his chair and as he made his way to the door, he walked by Josh, who was now staring at the floor, alone with his thoughts, and put his hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing it in reassurance. He glanced at Donna by his side. "Keep an eye on him," he mouthed. She replied with a nod and a slight smile. He then exited the room, following the doctor down the hall.

CJ stood up and made her way beside Mallory. The young woman hadn't said a word since they'd arrived and CJ could only imagine the thoughts that were going through her mind. She was aware of the progression in her relationship with Sam and couldn't be happier for the both of them. She and the rest of the Senior Staff were so relieved the day that Leo gave Sam permission to date his only daughter. They were all tired of seeing him mope around the office, his feelings in turmoil. They had all felt for him, but now, they were also very jealous of him for being the only member of the Senior Staff in a somewhat stable and loving relationship.

"Hey, Mal," she said, sitting down and putting her arm around her shoulders. Mallory turned her head and stared at the Press Secretary. "How are you holding up?" The young woman sighed heavily. She simply nodded.

"I love him, CJ."

"And he loves you, very much. And he's going to pull through this because of that. Because he knows you'll be waiting for him." CJ gave her a supportive grin.

"I'm so lucky to have him," Mallory whispered, her emotions resurfacing.

"He says the same thing about you," CJ assured her.

Mallory let her head fall on CJ's shoulder, her fatigue and the events of the evening having caught up with her. She closed her eyes and quietly relaxed her body and mind. She trusted and believed in the love she shared with Sam. Having come to that realization, she was positive he was going to be okay.

 

  ****

Three hours later

 

 

The private waiting room was immersed in silence. They had all found places to finally rest their exhausted bodies. Josh and Donna were leaning on against each other on the sofa. Josh had finally fallen into a peaceful sleep to everyone's relief. CJ and Mallory were sleeping on either end of the other sofa. Toby, not being able to find sleep, jumping at every sound, simply stared at his friends. He was surprised by how taut his muscles were, and at his inability to relax. He concluded that his mind would give his body the order to rest once he saw for himself that Sam was going to be okay. 

After his conversation with the President, he became aware of the presence of journalists and cameras outside the emergency room doors. He was relieved to see the hospital had contacted the police and made them aware of the ongoing situation and that their services would be required to prevent the media from entering. He, CJ and Josh were in no mood to deal with them now. He thought he should be surprised that they had found out where Sam was so quickly, but he wasn't really. He put their presence in the back of his mind, aware they would have to deal with them later. CJ would have to return to Washington and give a briefing on the new developments, but only when they were sure Sam was going to be okay. The people who really needed to know about what was going on between these walls were made aware. The President said he was going to call Sam's parents himself with the latest news. He was glad the President had volunteered for the task, because he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it and he was pretty sure Josh was in no condition either.

He looked at his watch again, wondering how much longer the operation was going to take. Just as he was processing that thought, the door opened quietly and Dr. Thomas carefully made her way in the room, not wanting to abruptly awaken anyone. Toby instantly jumped from his chair and approached her.

"How is he? What took so long?" he whispered.

"He experienced a few bouts of breathing problems due to the pneumonia, so they had to wait for it to pass before they could continue with the surgery, but everything is under control now. The surgery went well. They managed to repair the bone and there wasn't any sign of infection. We've installed him in the ICU, so if you want to see him, I can bring you up."

Toby nodded, turning towards his sleeping friends. He approached CJ and placed a hand on her shoulder. "CJ," he said, shaking her gently.

Her eyes popped open in surprise. "What? What's wrong?" she exclaimed in a low voice, disoriented.

"It's okay. He's out of surgery, we can see him now."

Upon hearing those words, the tiredness that had lingered in her eyes completely disappeared and she leaned over and awoke Mallory. Toby made his way to the other sofa and gently woke Josh from his slumber. Like CJ, Josh sprang awake immediately, waking Donna in the process. 

"We can see him now."

Josh quickly got to his feet and rubbed his eyes. "How long have I...?" he asked, but didn't finish his question, unable to say the last word as a sense of embarrassment invaded him at the thought that he actually managed to fall asleep while his best friend was in surgery.

"Almost three hours," Toby responded.

"Why did the surgery take so long?" Josh asked, repeating Toby's question.

"It just took them that long to fix his arm, Josh," Toby answered before the doctor could. He didn't think Josh needed all the details. Sam was okay now. He didn't need to know.

They all followed the doctor down the hall and into the elevator and made their way up to the seventh floor. Exiting the elevator, they made a left and entered the Intensive Care Unit. As they passed the main desk, the nurses looked up at them, obviously having been made aware of who they all were. Dr. Thomas stopped and pointed towards a glass window to their left. They all looked in.

Inside the small room lay Sam. He was surrounded by several monitoring devices, all of which were hooked up to his now-healing body one way or another. The most visible one was the nasal cannula on his face, providing him with an extra dose of oxygen to help alleviate his struggling lungs. A large white bandage around his head and completely covering his right eye accentuated the paleness of his features. The only sign of the surgery was the heavy cast that enveloped his left arm up to his elbow.

He lay there, asleep, safe and unaware of the activity around him. Nor was he aware of the concerned and worried looks his friends were giving him through the large window or of the fact that he was no longer alone.

 

The small group stood there staring through the large window, their gazes transfixed on their unmoving friend. After a few moments, Josh approached the window, placing his hands on it as if he could reach through to touch his best friend.

Dr. Thomas, watching the group from the sideline, was again amazed by their quiet display of emotion.

"I can let you in to see him one at a time," she said softly, placing a comforting hand on Josh's shoulder, hoping to appease his worries before he went straight through the glass.

Josh faced her, as if to make sure that she wasn't playing games with him.

She nodded reassuringly.

"Go ahead first, Josh," said Toby. "Go see him."

"There's a waiting room just across the hall," Dr. Thomas said. Toby nodded and along with CJ, Mallory and Donna, they made their way in the direction she was pointing towards.

Josh slowly came around the window and entered the cramped room. He was greeted by a series of continuous beeping noises emanating from the machines connected to Sam. Carefully, he approached the side of the bed and got a better look at his young friend. With the bandage around his forehead, covering his eye and his ashen features, Josh barely recognized him. Dr. Thomas followed him into the room and made her way to the other side of the bed.

"How long before he wakes up?" Josh whispered, as if he would inadvertently wake him if he spoke too loud.

"Once the effects of the anesthesia wears off, it's all up to him," she said as she was checking the readings on one of the machines and writing the information on her patient's chart.

Josh nodded and ventured another step closer to the bed, his eyes still locked on Sam. As he took that step, a raspy, congested and painful sound reached his ears. He was shocked to realize the sound was Sam breathing, or at the least trying to. Josh winced.

Dr. Thomas noticed his expression and reaction to the state of her patient. "It sounds worse then it is."

"Uh?" Josh quickly looked at her, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

"His breathing," she explained.

Josh didn't seem convinced. "Are you sure? It sounds so...painful."

"Well, it's a little labored, but that's normal with pneumonia. And he's not in any pain right now, I can assure you."

"Can he hear us?" he asked her, still keeping his distance.

Dr. Thomas couldn't help but grin at his question. "I don't think so. He's still in an induced sleep." She gazed at him carefully. "He's not in a coma, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's just that the way you... A skull fracture? It just sounds so..."

"Serious?" she finished. Josh nodded slowly. "Well, it is, but there's still no sign of pressure buildup or any intercranial bleeding. These kind of head injuries heal themselves with time."

Josh took another step closer to the bed, followed by another one, landing him directly beside Sam, his nervousness and fear slowly diminishing. "He's my best friend," he whispered absently.

"Excuse me?" asked the doctor, not completely sure of what she heard. Getting this man to open up seemed like the right thing to do right now.

Josh felt embarrassed for a second, and then realized he had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was proud to be able to call this man his best friend, and was even more honored that Sam reciprocated that feeling.

"He's my best friend," he repeated, this time with a stronger voice laced with pride. Carefully, he brushed his hand against Sam's fingers protruding from the cast.

Helena Thomas smiled at the scene playing out in front of her. "I'll leave you alone with him," she said as she replaced Sam's chart at the end of the bed.

"Thank you," Josh said gratefully without taking his gaze off the man lying in the bed.

"You're welcome. I'll be back soon." She exited the room and made her way down the hall.

Josh found himself alone with Sam and all that could be heard in the room was the monotonous sound of the heart monitor and Sam's labored breathing. He decided to ignore those unbearable noises as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He needed to touch Sam, to truly make sure he was here, that all this wasn't a figment of his imagination. He pulled up the chair that was against the far wall and carefully let his tired body fall into it. He gingerly grasped Sam good hand and lightly squeezed it. Josh let out a heavy sigh of relief upon the contact.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Sam, but I can't keep this inside anymore. Do you realize how scared I was? How we all were? You are never going sailing alone again! Never! Over my dead body! Do you understand me?" Josh practically yelled, realizing he was slowly losing his composure, but he had gone through too much at this point to really care. He took a deep breath, attempting to dissipate the lingering anger within him.

"What the hell happened to you out there?" he asked, his voice now metamorphosed into a quiet, pleading whisper, impatiently wanting an answer. It was so hard for him to sit there and watch his almost unrecognizable friend. He tightened his grip on Sam's hand again, making sure they were both where they appeared to be and that Sam was still with him. His breathing was so shallow his chest barely moved when he breathed. He remembered the doctor mentioning Sam had four broken ribs. Josh winced at that thought. He remembered cracking a rib once and how painful it had been and how difficult it was just to take a deep breath. He could only imagine the kind of pain four broken ribs caused.

"I know that you know this but...I don't think I've ever told you and I know I should be telling you this when I'm sure you can hear me, but now seems like a pretty good time.... I'll give you highlights when you wake up.... Why is it always in situations like this that we realize that? How important some things are and....I'm so not good at this!" he rambled on, frustrated. He covered his face with his free hand, ordering his tired mind to focus on what he was trying to say.

"I wish you were awake right now so you could feed me one of those million dollar words of yours that always gets on Toby's nerves," he said with a slight laugh. "What I'm trying to say here is...you're my best friend. You're the brother I never had. You're always there for me, always. And I want you to know that I'll always be there for you." Josh leaned over the bed a little more and looked into Sam's face, trying to ignore the bandages. "I love you, Sam. You're the best friend a guy can have and I swear to God, if you ever pull something like this ever again, I'm going to kick your butt so hard, your grandchildren are going to feel it." Josh closed his eyes and imagined the grin Sam would have on his face if he were awake right now.

"You're going to be okay, aren't you? I don't know what you're pulling here, but I'm not convinced. I know you better than this and this isn't going to stop you. God, even the President thinks that." Josh sighed, the grin reappearing. "It's always the quiet ones..." he said sarcastically. Even if his short conversation was one-sided, he felt much better. A hopeful feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

Just then, a tall, slim man in his mid-forties entered the room, followed by a nurse carrying a tray, disrupting his thoughts. Josh also noticed the man wore a white lab coat, indicating he was a doctor.

"What's wrong?" Josh asked, standing from his seat, the words escaping his mouth before his mind had a chance to process them. The doctor was taken aback by the sudden panic in the young man's voice and demeanor.

"There's nothing wrong. I'm Dr. Truman. I'm the ophthalmologist, here to check up on Mr. Seaborn," the doctor responded calmly.

Josh simply stared at the man as if he had just spoken in a totally foreign language. 'I really have to relax and get some sleep,' he thought as he shook his head, becoming aware of the strange way he was acting.

"Are you okay?" asked the doctor, a little concerned.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long night," he said, peering down at Sam.

"I know," replied the doctor. "I was told about the events tonight. He's an extremely lucky man." Aware of who Sam was, the doctor gazed at Josh quizzically. "You're Joshua Lyman, aren't you?" he asked.

Josh nodded. Usually, he felt a sensation of pride and a boost to his ego when strangers recognized him, but this time it didn't affect him at all.

"Mr. Lyman, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to wait in the hall while I examine him."

Josh nodded, but didn't move. He still held Sam's hand and wasn't really ready to let go. He knew Sam was a grown man; actually the thought made him grin internally. Nonetheless, it never stopped any of them from treating Sam like the eternal little brother who needed someone to hold his hand to cross the street. And the thought that made his grin grow even larger was that it never really seemed to bother Sam. Either deep down, he really needed that sense of protection and feeling of closeness with his friends or he didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings by waving off their concerns. Josh was more convinced it was just Sam being Sam.

Gradually, Josh's internal grin made it's way to his exterior as he slowly let go of Sam's hand. He looked up at the doctor standing at the foot of the bed and nodded. He slowly made his way out of the room and left the doctor to check on his patient.

  ****

* * * * *

Toby looked up as Josh entered the waiting room. He immediately noticed that he looked a little more relaxed and his face actually seemed to have brightened up. Toby knew seeing Sam would do him good, even though his condition was still serious.

Josh made his way to an armchair and flopped down into it.

"What's wrong?" Toby asked, not too sure what to make of Josh's expression or of what could have made him leave Sam's side.

"Uh, nothing," he replied, looking up at him, suddenly becoming aware of the other's presence. "The ophthalmologist is checking on him."

"You okay?" CJ asked Josh after a few moments of silence. He seemed to be drifting off to sleep.

"Yeah," he answered softly and calmly without lifting his head.

CJ glanced at Toby and shrugged. Both were surprised by Josh's sudden change in attitude, but were nonetheless relieved. Obviously, seeing Sam, even in his current condition, was enough to appease him.

Suddenly, they realized Josh was now sleeping, his head leaning on the back of the chair and a slight grin on his lips. Toby, Mallory, Donna and CJ were speechless as they sat there and watched Josh sleep.

Mallory took the opportunity to get up and stretch her legs. Inadvertently, she made her way just outside Sam's room. She stopped and looked through the window. The doctor was leaning over him, examining his now-unbandaged eye. She managed to catch a glimpse of his injured face. She quickly regretted it. The bruising was horrific and the swelling gave him an unnatural look. The dark bruises accentuated his paleness tenfold. With a hand over her mouth to strangle any cries that tried to escape her, she continued to watch. Her heart was in so much pain that she was sure it was comparable to Sam's.

The doctor pushed a button and she watched as Sam's face slowly disappeared from her sight as the top part of the bed was lowered. The doctor hovered over him and put drops on his injured eye. He was speaking softly with the nurse who was assisting him, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She studied the doctor's face to see if she could somehow tell if Sam's condition was improving or worsening, but he was unreadable. After putting the drops in Sam's eye, the doctor replaced the bandage and raised the bed again. During the procedure, Sam's facial expression didn't alter. He looked as passive and unaware of his surroundings as he had before. Her gaze fixed on Sam, Mallory didn't notice the doctor and nurse exit the room. Next thing she knew, someone was putting their hand on her shoulder.

"Miss? Miss?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, emerging from her daze.

"Are you with the group here for Mr. Seaborn?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Actually, he's my...my boyfriend." She managed to finish the sentence as she looked back at the person she was referring to. She had to say those words. She felt so strongly about it, but she had never really uttered them out loud before. "How is he?"

"I was just on my way to speak to all of you, so why don't we make our way to the waiting room and we can talk there," he suggested with a professional smile.

Mallory didn't know how to decipher his reply, so she slowly turned and headed back into the waiting room.

Everyone rose to his or her feet as they entered, except for Josh, who was still asleep. As soon as she saw the doctor appear at the door, Donna quickly made her way to his side and gently nudged him awake. 

"Mmmmm," he muttered.

"Josh, wake up. The doctor's here," she said, bending down and whispering in his ear.

Josh bolted up, wide-awake. He immediately recognized the man.

"I'm Dr. Truman. I was the ophthalmologist on call when Mr. Seaborn was brought in. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to meet with you earlier, but I'm sure Dr. Thomas brought you up to speed in regards to his eye injury. I just finished examining him and things are looking good. The pressure is coming down � not as fast as I'd like � but it's decreasing nevertheless. We have been giving him Brimonidine drops, which were designed to decrease optical pressure. It seems to be working, so we are going to continue with that treatment." He looked at the five people in the room and noticed that they all now looked as if a ton of bricks had been removed from their shoulders. Tired smiles now appeared on their faces.

"Has there been any damage to his optic nerve?" asked CJ.

"We won't be able to determine that until he wakes up, but one way or another, his eye is going to be very sensitive for some time. He'll have to wear a patch. He'll also have to undergo at least one pressure check every day for the next month or two."

Everyone looked at each other. Next month or two? What did he mean? Did this guy know something that he wasn't telling them?

Toby decided to venture into unknown waters. "Dr. Truman, you said the next month or two?"

The doctor nodded, a questioning on his face. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going.

"So, are you saying he's going to be okay?" A hopeful look appeared on Toby's face.

Dr. Truman suddenly appeared a little uncomfortable. "First of all, please don't jump to conclusions. Remember, I'm an ophthalmologist. Your friend is looking a little better than when he was first brought in. Things are looking up." He smiled sheepishly.

"He's looking better?" Mallory asked, wanting to be absolutely sure she understood.

"Yes, he is. But I shouldn't be the one telling you this or answering your questions. I'll go find Dr. Thomas for you, okay?"

They all nodded and gave him thankful smiles. As soon as the doctor left the waiting room, Josh let out a huge sigh. The grin he wore on his face earlier reappearing. 'I knew he could hear me. I knew it,' Josh thought.

 

 

 

About twenty minutes later, Dr. Thomas joined the small group in the ICU waiting room. After examining him again, she confirmed Sam was slowly improving and his breathing was becoming less strained. His head injury also seemed clear, but again, she warned them even after many hours or a few days, the effects of head injuries could surface. They would have to keep a careful eye on it.

"Now, about his arm," she said in a grave voice. "I spoke with Dr. Chamberlain, who performed the surgery. He apologizes for not being able to speak with you, but he got called back into surgery on another case. Unfortunately, the broken bone did cause some nerve and muscle damage."

"He won't lose the use of his arm, will he?" asked CJ, a little panicked.

It was a feeling shared by all five of them at that point.

"No, once the bone heals, his arm will be fine, but the strength and dexterity in his hand will most likely be affected. He'll require a lot of physical therapy to counter the damage it sustained."

'Physical therapy and some patience. We can deal with. That's nothing compared to the other possibility we were facing tonight', thought Toby. At this point in the waiting game, they were finally leading and there was only a few seconds left on the clock.

"I highly recommend you all get some sleep. We'll be keeping him in ICU and in twenty-four hours, if his condition continues to improve, we'll move him to a private room."

The group nodded as one and thanked her.

They all looked at one another, each wondering if they all looked as bad as the next. Through the large windows at the far end of the room, the sun was slowly rising, marking an end to their dreadful night and hopefully marking the beginning of a better day.

 

 

  ****

9:34am

The rhythmic sounds of the machines surrounding her where like a slow lullaby to her tired senses. She nonetheless fought off sleep's appealing offer, which was beckoning her. 

Sitting in a not-so-comfortable chair at Sam's bedside, Mallory waited impatiently for him to show a sign that he was really going to be okay. She dreaded the thought of Sam waking up and her being asleep. She wanted to be the first person he saw, wanted him to hear her say the words she hadn't been completely sure of before yesterday.

So, for the past three hours, she had sat by his side in silent contemplation of the man who had conquered her heart.

After the last visit from Dr. Thomas a few hours ago, things had become a little less frantic. The doctors had told them Sam wasn't totally out of the woods yet, but his condition was improving as time went by.

After hearing those encouraging words, Toby called the President and Leo to pass the information on to them. Relief ran rampant throughout the White House. Taking the promising update into consideration, the President thought it would be a good idea if CJ returned to Washington for the morning briefing, since she had all the information first hand.

Donna also agreed to return to the White House, seeing that Josh had become much calmer after his short vigil over his best friend. Leo was relieved to see at least one of the Senior Staff members returning. He refused to even imagine what he would do if something were to come up and he was the only senior advisor present. He would have felt better if either Toby or Josh was also returning, but he knew better than to ask. He knew where the two men's allegiance stood, but right now being with Sam took precedence.

Josh had told Donna to call him as soon as she arrived at the White House so she could bring him up to speed on things. Not that his mind was in 'work mode', but no matter what, he still had a job to do.

Donna was hoping compassion and understanding would be abundant when speaking with the people Josh was supposed to meet with during the day; she had to reschedule the meetings. After the night she had had, she was in no mood to deal with the complaining and irrationality of some high level politician who thought the whole world had to come to a stop because he or she had a meeting the with the Deputy Chief of Staff. She'd seen and heard it too many times to dismiss the possibility.

The news of Sam's disappearance and rescue had made headline news throughout the country. The question on everyone's lips that morning was "What happened out there?" Some commentators were coming out with their own hypothesis, and some of them were downright ridiculous. A botched kidnapping attempt? Modern day pirates? Inexperience on Sam's behalf? Some people were even suggesting that the Senior Staff should consider having the same kind of protection the President has and apply restrictions on the activities they perform depending on the risk level. It was all talk though, the stations having to fill up the time between updates with whichever panel members they were able to get on the air at the time.

Mallory remembered watching the news report on CNN about Sam earlier that morning, when Toby turned on the television in the waiting room, himself trying to keep track of the day's current events. They went through a detailed account of his injuries that CJ had compiled during the night. Hearing them again still made her cringe. Her gaze was captured by a picture of Sam that was shown to the right of the newscaster. Mallory felt like he was staring directly at her. His eyes displayed that ever-present twinkle behind his wireless glasses, his radiant smile and his genuine expression of happiness completely took over the screen. The young man in the picture was, unfortunately, a far cry away from the man lying in the hospital bed.

Mallory sighed heavily, her gaze resting on Sam. Toby had been by a few minutes before to tell her that he and Josh were going down to the waiting room. They had been brought upon their arrival to make a few phone calls to work and deal with some urgent items that had to be dealt with. He made her promise to get to them immediately if there was a change in Sam's condition.

'I love this man. I truly love this man,' she told herself with pride, a smile appearing on her tired face. Her mind went back to the conversation they had all had on the helicopter. For Josh, CJ and Toby, this incident had made them realize just how much Sam meant to them and how strong their friendship was. They were all part of a whole, and if one piece of that whole was missing, everyone and everything was affected.

Mallory wasn't surprised by Josh's reaction to the incident, knowing how close the two men were, but Toby's simply blew her away. 'If Sam only knew', she said to herself. It dawned on her that he probably did. The thought made her laugh quietly. She knew she could never put anything past him.

The same applied to her. With a tinge of regret and embarrassment, she had to admit the incident had made her realize just how important Sam was to her. She knew she had genuine feelings for him, but looking back now, she realized she was frightened to give in to them totally. But what was she afraid of? Only one answer came to mind and that was that he wouldn't reciprocate those feelings. She knew how he felt; he had showed her on numerous occasions, but she had been hurt too many times in the past.

Sam was so very different from any other man she had ever met. His determination, dedication and perseverance reminded her very much of her father. She admired that professional side of him, but his nerdiness, clumsiness, charm and honesty were what attracted her to him the most. Well, that and the fact that she could spend a lifetime staring into his coral blue eyes and his soft and handsome features. 

To her, Sam was the embodiment of a truly beautiful person, both inside and out. That type of person doesn't come around too often, and when one enters your life, you have to grab onto them, for they will make you a better person in return. That was exactly what Mallory had discovered and she intended to do everything in her power to make Sam a part of her life. By finally giving in to her feelings and sharing them with him, she hoped to be on the right track in accomplishing just that.

She suddenly felt her eyes getting heavier and heavier, the lack of sleep finally catching up to her, but a quiet mumble from Sam jerked her back to her senses and her tiredness was quickly forgotten. She bounced up from her chair and got as close to him as she could.

"Sam? Sam, can you hear me?" pleaded Mallory, her hand softly rubbing his cheek. The mumbling increased and he started to move, which Mallory didn't think was a good thing. She quickly grabbed the call button and pressed it repeatedly, hoping it would make someone come faster.

"Sam, try not to move. You're safe and you're going to be okay. Just stay still," she pleaded, her voice as calm as possible, hoping he would hear her and be appeased.

A nurse came running into the room and quickly assessed the situation. She observed the heart monitor; his heart rate had increased.

"I think he's coming to and he started moving...and...I didn't want him to hurt himself...so, I thought it was better if...so I pressed the button..." Mallory explained to the nurse, trying her best to remain calm despite her fears.

"It's okay," replied the nurse, giving the young woman a reassuring smile. "You did the right thing." She peeked down at Sam, who was still mumbling and obviously trying to wake up. "Keep talking to him. I'll go and get Dr. Thomas." The young nurse ran out of the room as fast as she had come in.

Mallory refocused her attention on Sam. "Come on, Sam. Please wake up." Mallory's face suddenly brightened when his right eye fluttered and slowly opened, but her smile disappeared when Sam's face contorted in pain and he started having a coughing fit. The paleness of his face was now replaced by a dark red glow caused by his sudden exertion. Mallory was frantic, not knowing what do to.

"Sam! Try to relax. Breathe! Breathe!" she begged, rubbing his back, hoping it would help.

He instinctively wrapped his right arm around his agonizing rib cage, every cough sending sharp tendrils of pain throughout his body. Just as Mallory was about to completely lose it, Dr. Thomas ran into the room. She made her way to her patient, whose coughing was starting to subside. She glanced at the monitoring machines at the side of the bed, making sure the readings were within normal parameters. She looked up and saw the terror on Mallory's face. The young woman was on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry. This, unfortunately, happens with pneumonia. His ribs are going to take a little pounding, but that's the only way for the lungs to expel the accumulated fluid," the doctor explained as she took her patient's chart from the nurse, trying to sound as comforting as possible.

When the fit seemed to have passed, Sam eased himself back against his pillow. Mallory cringed at the raspy, gurgling sound of his every breath. She gazed as his face and detected lines of pain that hadn't been there before.

"He seems to be in pain. Can you give him something?" she asked, obviously unaware of the conversation the doctor was having with the nurse.

"We're going to do just that," the doctor answered as she passed the chart back to the nurse after scribbling a few notes on it.

Sam was moving again as if he was trying to get up.

"Mr. Seaborn? Sam? Can you hear me?" Dr. Thomas asked as she leaned over her patient, trying to rouse him.

Sam answered with a low mumble. His eye fluttered for a few seconds, then slowly opened. He blinked repeatedly, trying to focus. His hand suddenly reached for his bandaged eye. The doctor quickly stopped him before his hand could reach its destination. Gently, she pushed his arm back down on the bed.

"Wha....? Where...?" he asked, his raspy voice barely more than a whisper.

"You're in the hospital. I'm Dr. Thomas. You had an accident on your boat. Try not to move too much. You have some broken ribs, but I guess you probably already know that," she said, noticing his arm was again hugged around his mid-section.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor asked, trying to raise his level of awareness.

Sam gave her a quizzical look, not sure of what she was referring to. Everything was a blur. He tried to bring up his last memory and a vision of water � a lot of water � appeared. A wave of fear suddenly overwhelmed him.

"It's okay if you don't. It'll come back to you eventually. Just try to relax," she said, noticing his sudden increased breathing.

"My...eye? Can't...see," he mumbled.

"You injured your eye. It's covered, that's why you can't see." Mallory looked up at the doctor, wondering if she was going to give him more details about his injuries. She thought Sam had a right to know what was wrong with him. She knew he was strong and would want to know the truth. On second thought, she didn't like the fact that she knew, so she decided he was better off not knowing right now.

Returning her attention back to Sam, she realized she was standing on his right side, and he couldn't see her. She wanted him to know she was there.

"Sam," she said softly.

In that moment, upon hearing that voice, all of Sam's fears and uncertainties disappeared. He suddenly remembered lying on the deck of his boat, and her face being the only thing that would subside the pain and the fear. That voice meant everything to him. He longed to hear it again, to touch her face, to have her in his arms. He knew she would make everything okay. Slowly, he turned his head to the right. There stood the most beautiful sight in the world to him. For a few moments, he simply stared at her, breathing in her presence.

"Hey," Mallory said, smiling down at him and not knowing what else to say. The turmoil that had been gathering for the last twelve hours suddenly drained from her the moment their eyes met. She quickly covered her mouth to confine a sob that wanted to escape. The last thing she wanted was for Sam to see her cry, but she was having a hard time preventing that.

"Mallory," Sam whispered, giving her a weak smile.

The tears in Mallory's eyes were now flowing freely, her happiness and relief creating a tug of war with her emotions. Sam slowly raised his good arm and reached out for her. She took his hand in hers and brought it up to her lips, kissing it repeatedly.

"Don't...cry," Sam said.

Mallory shook her head, amazed by his concern for her. She smiled back at him. "We were so scared of losing you, Sam. We didn't know where you were. But everything is going to be okay now. Toby and Josh are here. They've both been going out of their minds, worried about you...." she babbled.

They both maintained their gaze on each other, hoping the moment would never end.

"Ms. O'Brien, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We're going to run a few tests and Dr. Truman is on his way as well. I'll meet with you in the waiting room in the ER when were done."

Mallory nodded her head, but the rest her body refused to move. Being here, beside the man she loved, the man she almost lost, holding his hand, felt so right. She didn't want to let go, fearing she wouldn't be able to get him back if she left.

"Ms. O'Brien," the doctor said again, this time a tinge of insistence in her voice.

Mallory looked up at her with pleading eyes, but knew it was useless. She looked back down at Sam.

"It's okay," Sam mouthed, his voice still a mumble.

She kissed his hand, keeping it closely to her lips. "I love you." She mouthed the words, not trusting her voice.

He answered with the biggest smile he could manage, followed by his own declaration of love.

Mallory wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him forever, but she was being forced to do the complete opposite and let him go. It took all her willpower to do so. "I'll see you soon," she said as she made her way out of the room.

Their eyes didn't leave each other until she was out the door. Once in the hall, she leaned against the wall and let all her emotions pour out. The relief, the happiness and the love metamorphosed into a crying fit she couldn't control. In that moment, she realized how tired she really was and that weariness was probably the culprit for her emotional outburst.

At that same moment, Toby made his way around the corner to see Mallory practically sitting on the floor, her hands covering her face, crying her heart out. The second he saw her, he ran down the hall as fast as he could, his worst fears popping into his mind. When he reached her, he bent down on one knee and put both his hands on her shoulders. Taken by surprise, she immediately uncovered her face and stared at Toby's devastated expression.

"What happened?" he asked fearfully.

Mallory continued to stare at him for a moment, realizing what was probably going through his mind, what he must be thinking seeing her here, crying on the floor. She quickly gathered herself and wiped the tears from her eyes. "He's awake. He smiled at me and..." She was unable to maintain her temporary composure and started crying again, but this time, tears of joy ran down her cheeks. "...and he told me he loved me."

Toby didn't know what to say. He stared at the young woman for a moment, then took her in his arms, holding her tightly. A lonely tear emerged from the corner of his left eye, Mallory's emotional outpour of relief and joy breaking through his barrier.

"What did the doctor say?" he finally asked, pulling back slightly, but still holding her shoulders.

"They are going to run a few tests and the ophthalmologist is on his way up. She said she'd meet up with us in the waiting room downstairs."

Toby nodded. "Let's go and tell Josh the good news," he said after getting up on his feet and offering her his hand.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled, giving him her hand. They both made their way down the hall, Toby's arm around Mallory's shoulders.

 

 

  ****

2:04pm

As Josh, accompanied by Toby and Mallory, made his way down the hall to Sam's private room, he couldn't help but think about the last few hours. All the waiting, the worrying, the uncertainty and the fear of losing his best friend were now at an end. Just a couple of hours ago, Dr. Thomas had told them that according to the tests they performed, Sam was starting to show signs that his body was responding to the medication they were administering to fight the pneumonia and he didn't seem to have any residual effects from his head injury. 

Dr. Truman had said Sam's eye pressure was slowly decreasing and that surgery would probably not be required at this point, just as long as the pressure continued to decrease. All in all, the conclusion was that Sam was going to pull through, and that's all that counted.

Josh, knowing his best friend and how impatient he was, wondered just how long of a recuperation period he would be able to handle. Asking Sam not do anything for a whole day was bad enough, but ordering him to do nothing for a few weeks was going to be torture on the young man. Josh decided he was going to have to come up with something to occupy his friend's spare time, but right now, he was going to see his best friend.

After reviewing the results of the tests, Dr. Thomas determined that moving Sam out of ICU was a safe step. He was still going to be closely monitored, but without all the rules and regulations regarding visitation, which made the three friends extremely happy.

While waiting for Sam to be moved to his new room, they all decided to take a quick nap. Now that their tension and worry had been considerably diminished by the recent good news, sleep came to them fairly quickly.

It wasn't long before Dr. Thomas entered the waiting room and awoke the threesome, telling them Sam was awake and asking for them. Within a few minutes, they were up and walking through the labyrinth of corridors. Dr. Thomas also warned them that he was still groggy and tired, and not to push him. She knew they all had many questions, but they would all be answered in due time.

As they arrived outside room three-fifteen, Mallory slowly opened the door and all three entered. The curtains were partially closed, only permitting a thin ray of light to sneak into the room, but it was enough for them to see Sam lying in the bed at the center of the room. As they approached, they all noticed how peaceful he looked. The lines of pain that had etched themselves on his youthful features were no longer as pronounced and he seemed to have a little bit more color, but nonetheless, but he was still pale. He was still sporting the nasal cannula and his breathing didn't sound as rough as it did before. 

Obviously aware of their presence, Sam slowly opened his functioning eye and absorbed the sight in front of him. Toby made his way around one side of the bed, while Mallory approached him on the other, Josh by her side.

"Hi," said Sam, his voice a little stronger than before, but still raspy.

Mallory smiled back at him, putting her hand over his fingers left exposed by the cast.

"Hey, buddy. How are ya feeling?" asked Josh, the question just slipping out of his mouth, a huge smile plastered on his face. He was trying to control his jubilation at seeing his best friend alert. He wanted to give Sam a hug, but considering his current condition and the fact that Mallory and Toby were around, he put the thought in the back of his head and decided that once Sam was well enough, they would sit down and cover a few things, including the hug.

"Alive," he answered, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Amen to that," said Toby with a grin. "Seriously, how do you feel?"

"Right now...they've pumped me up with all sorts of painkillers...it's hard to tell," Sam answered.

"Sam, what happened out there?" asked Mallory, no longer able to keep the question bottled up inside her and well aware Toby and Josh were as impatient as her to hear the answer. 

Since he had woken up, Sam had had a chance to review the images and memories scattered throughout his mind and try to piece them together. Most of it was still a blur, but the gist of the events was slowly coming back to him.

"I remember it started to rain and I took down the sail, then..." He had to stop and refocus his thoughts, his next memory being a painful one. "I must have slipped and hit my head somehow, because the next thing I remember is waking up on the deck and....it was dark and raining, raining hard. The wind was...tossing the boat and then...." Sam closed his eye, attempting to subdue the sudden sense of panic blossoming in the pit of his stomach.

Realizing his sudden change in demeanor, Mallory softly caressed his cheek, looking sad. "Sam, it's all right. You don't have to remember everything now. What counts is that you're here and you're going to be okay. Whatever happened out there doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past. All we have to think of now is the future," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. She would have said more if not for Josh and Toby being right beside her.

Even with Mallory's comforting words, Sam nonetheless felt like he had to put his memories into words, and by doing so, he would be able to accept them and then hopefully, forget them. He opened his eye, looked up and met her gaze.

"I fell overboard," he said, still gazing into Mallory's eyes.

"You what?" exclaimed Toby.

Horrific images suddenly formed in all their minds.

"I remember something hitting me in the chest...and I fell into the water. That's the last thing I remember." Having said it out loud made him feel a little better, but the fact that he couldn't remember most of it still bothered him greatly. One thing he was sure of, though, was that he had stared death in the eye and hadn't blinked.

"But, how did you get back in the boat?" asked Josh, trying to picture the scenario.

"I don't remember. Everything after that is...a complete blank, but I'm sure that the fact that I had my life jacket on and tied myself to a line had something to do with it, but..."

"And thank God for that," added Toby.

Sam smiled at his boss, but the smile suddenly vanished as he was hit by a coughing fit. An alarmed look appeared on the faces of the three people standing around his bed not really knowing what do to. Sam immediately wrapped his good arm around his mid-section like he had done before. Fortunately, this fit wasn't as long or as stressful as the one Mallory had witnessed.

While he was trying to catch his breath, Sam put his hand up, attempting to signal to his three friends that he was okay. He saw the look on their faces and it hurt him to see them that way as much as it did to cough.

"Don't worry. The doctor said this...was a good thing. It helps...to break up the congestion. It hurts like...hell, but apparently it...helps," he explained, still out of breath, with a slight grimace.

The panicked expressions slowly melted off their faces. For the next few moments, silence reigned within the private hospital room. Toby, Josh and Mallory simply drank in the sight of the man who meant so much to them. It was hard to believe that only hours ago, the doctors hadn't been sure of his outcome and before that, if he was even alive or not. Those three people felt like the luckiest in the world.

"Uhmm...would you guys mind if I had had moment alone with Sam?" Mallory asked, somewhat hesitantly.

They both looked at her and responded with a smile, both pretty sure what she wanted to talk to Sam about. 

"Of course," Toby said. He looked down at Sam and placed his hand on his shoulder. "We're going to go call Leo, which we should have done when you first woke up, and tell him you're still alive and kicking. I'll talk to you later," Toby said with a smile.

"Thanks, Toby," whispered Sam.

"Toby, don't get all sappy on him now. He's been through enough, don't you think?" Josh asked, using his usual banter to downplay his true feelings.

Toby glared at him. "Shut up," he replied as he made his way for the door.

Josh looked down at Sam. "You be good and don't overexert yourself," he said, pointing his finger at the young man.

"Yes, mom," replied Sam, smiling at his friend's taunt.

"Oh...and if you want, we can put a "Do not disturb" sign on the door for a while, if you know what I mean?" he added in a low voice, accompanied by a mischievous grin. Sam replied with a grin and Mallory with a huff. Josh stood up straight and his face suddenly turned very serious. He and Sam looked at each other for a moment, no words necessary to say how they felt. They had been best friends long enough to read each other like open books with big, bold lettering.

"I'll talk to you later," Josh finally said, gently patting Sam's leg.

"Okay," Sam replied.

Josh slowly started walking out of the room backwards, not wanting to lose sight of his friend. 

"Come on, will you. He's not going anywhere," Toby said, grabbing Josh by the arm, dragging him out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, Mallory shook her head, smiling. "Do you have any idea what kind of effect you have on those two? A few hours ago, they were pouring their hearts out, worried sick. But don't tell them you heard that from me," she said, leaning in a little closer to him.

"Really?" he asked, a surprised look on his face.

"You really don't have any idea do you? Josh, Toby, CJ, Dad, the President. They all care about you so much. You should have seen them last night...." Images and thoughts of the nightmarish events of the previous night sent chills down her spine. "Josh actually blamed himself for what happened and to be honest with you, so did I."

Not understanding the logic behind what she said, Sam gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean? That doesn't make any sense. It wasn't...."

"I know that, but believe me, at the time, it did," she said with an embarrassed grin.

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Sam. After something goes wrong, we always wish we had done things differently and this was one of those times. Josh said that if he had gone with you instead of sleeping in, this wouldn't have happened. If I hadn't decided to go on the field trip and stuck to our plans..."

"Mallory, we made that decision together. First of all, it's not fair for you to take full responsibility for that and secondly, you and Josh have absolutely nothing to feel bad about. Nothing! What happened, happened. That's it."

She pondered what he said for a moment, realizing how right he was. Tears suddenly appeared in the corner of her eyes and made their way down her cheeks. She was still overwhelmed that she was actually by his side, having this conversation with him. 

Her emotions were off the charts. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but couldn't get her mind wrapped around it. Mallory had to get a grip on herself before continuing with what she truly wanted to tell him and not get Sam too worried about her emotional state. She had a feeling she was too late for that when she looked into his saddened and guilt-ridden eyes.

"Mallory...I'm sorry...." he said, his voice full of sincerity. He was obviously feeling responsible for making the woman he loved cry.

Mallory's face suddenly went from sadness to surprise. "Now I think it's time for you to take a huge spoonful of your own medicine, Mr. Seaborn." She eyed him seriously. "I know what you're thinking. You feel guilty because we were all worried about you. That's just a normal reaction people have when someone they care about is, in your case, missing in the middle of the damn Atlantic Ocean! What did you think we'd be doing, sitting around patiently, twiddling our thumbs, waiting to find out if you were alive or not?" she exclaimed angrily, her tone of voice having gotten away from her. She sighed heavily, trying to compose herself again. "We all love you and you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about." She was quiet for a moment and sighed heavily.

"You know what? I think we should completely forget what happened, because if we don't, I have a feeling neither of us are going to win this conversation. We're both too stubborn. And believe it or not, I did have an alternate real reason to ask Josh and Toby to leave and it wasn't so we could argue over...you know," she said, a smile finally appearing on her lips.

"Oh, really?" he asked, her smile reflecting on his face.

She peered deeply into his eye and realized how tired he looked, but she needed to tell him how she felt. She refused to delay it, not knowing what the future could bring. 

"Yeah," she replied softly, leaning a little closer to him, half sitting on the edge of the bed. She took in a long breath of air and looked directly into his eyes. "We've been going out for some time now, and things have been great. Like, who would have thought the both of us ending up together after the way we first met? Things have been going so well, but I was a little hesitant to...take the next step because I was...afraid. I was enjoying the time we were having together...and I guess I was afraid it would change if...we became more serious, taking our relationship one step further, but after last night...I'm not afraid to take the next step anymore. For a few hours there, I was sure I'd lost you and the thought of not having you in my life anymore was...unbearable. It tore me apart," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks again. "I love you", she whispered passionately, her hand softly stoking his cheek and lips. "I want you in my life."

They remained silent for a moment. Sam then took her hand in his good one and gently squeezed it, bringing to his lips and gently kissing it.

"When I was out there, I remember being scared. I didn't know if I was going to make it. And I remember...pain. But there was one thing that made everything...." He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I wasn't as scared and the pain wasn't as bad. It was you. I would think of you and I knew I was going to be okay. I was going to get out of there, because I had to, to be with you. I owe you my life." He took a shuddering breath. "You are my life, Mallory O'Brien. I love you so much."

Mallory slowly leaned in and their lips met. Then suddenly, Sam pulled away slightly. It took Mallory by surprise, and she backed away.

"Hold on," said Sam with a grin. Gently, he removed the nasal cannula from around his ears.

"Sam, I don't think..."

"It's okay. Believe me, it's worth it. Come on this side," he indicated to the right side of the bed.

Mallory practically ran. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently leaned against his uninjured side.

Without a word, their lips met again, their longing kiss filled with passion and love.

After a moment, Sam winced and Mallory took it as a sign that he might be overdoing it. She pulled away, much to Sam's discontent.

"Now, now, lover boy. Save some for later. Remember what Josh said, don't overexert yourself," she said with a giggle, gently replacing the cannula around his ears and under his nose.

Sam rested his gaze on her as sleep started to overwhelm him. His eye fluttered for a moment, becoming too heavy to keep open.

"Sleep now," she said. His body relaxed. Just as she thought he had fallen asleep, he grabbed her hand.

"Mallory, stay with me," he asked on the verge of sleep, his voice a soft, gentle whisper to her ears.

She pulled the chair that was beside his bed closer and sat down, taking his hand in hers and placing it against her cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied.

He drifted off to sleep, a smile on his lips and his heart filled with love.

 

 

 

Leo made his way into the Oval Office through the connecting door from his office. The President was receiving his daily Intelligence briefing.

"Excuse me, if I may interrupt for a moment," Leo said, addressing the two uniformed officers sitting on the sofa. "Mr. President, could I have a moment please?" he asked.

"Of course. Gentlemen, if you'll please excuse me," the President said as he quickly rose from his chair and followed Leo back into his office.

"Sam?" he asked as soon as the door was closed.

Leo nodded. "Toby and Josh just called. Sam woke up a few hours ago."

"Why didn't they call us right away?" exclaimed the President, a little upset.

"They kinda got caught up in the moment and they do apologize for that," Leo explained, purposely omitting the fact that they had also taken a nap during that time.

Bartlet eyed Leo for a moment. "How is he? What did they say?" he finally asked, wanting to get to the point.

"They ran a few tests and the doctor said Sam's responding to the medication for the pneumonia and they probably won't need to operate on his eye."

A huge grin appeared on the President's face, relief running its course through his body.

"He's out of ICU. They were talking to him for a few minutes before Mallory kicked them out of his room," Leo said with a grin.

"Your daughter does have her ways, Leo." The President sighed heavily, placing his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "He's going to be okay?" he asked, wanting to be reassured.

Leo nodded. The President seemed to be in deep thought for a moment.

"Leo, I need Toby and Josh here, but I don't want to be the person who takes them away from Sam's side. I can't give that order. They need him as much as he needs them. Sam being in New York and them here; their bodies might be here, but their minds would be with him. So, I want you to look into having Sam transferred to either Georgetown U. or GW as soon as he's able to travel. That way everyone can have access to him and we can all make sure he gets back on his feet. I also think he'd be more comfortable back here."

"I agree, sir. I'll arrange for it."

The President smiled again, glad the whole nightmarish incident was finally coming to an end. "Good. Now go tell everyone the good news and I'm going to get back to my security briefing," he said, not too thrilled about having to go back into his meeting.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

"Thank you, Leo," he replied, resting his gaze on his Chief of Staff for a moment, a smile on his lips.

 

 

  ****

Four weeks later

 

 

"Is the banner up?" asked Josh from his desk, going over a report.

"Yes, Josh. The banner's up. The balloons are blown up and the cake is on standby in the mess," announced Donna for the third time in the last hour, exasperation heavy in her voice.

"Great. Any word from the gate?"

Donna sighed heavily. "You tell me, Josh. You told them to call you at the first sign of them," she reminded him.

He looked up at her, realizing what she just said. "Oh, right," he said, returning to his reading.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, this report. I want to get it finished before they get here," he answered.

Donna stared at her boss with a grin on her face, suddenly realizing why he was acting so strange. "You're excited," she said.

"What?" he asked without lifting his head, obviously not really paying attention to her.

"You're excited about Sam coming back to work."

This caught his attention and he looked up at her and rose from his chair, obviously giving up on the report.

"Yes, I am!" he answered decisively, making his way past her and down the hall.

"Okay. But it's not like you haven't seen him in the last four weeks. Actually, come to think of it, you've seen him practically every day since the accident. You were with him in New York, you spent most of your free time with him when he was at GW and when he got home, you would go over there every night after work. After all that, you'd think you'd both be tired of each other," Donna said with a short giggle, following him down the busy corridor.

Josh suddenly stopped, turned around and faced his assistant. "Donna, I'm not excited to see him. Well, yeah, I am, but...what I mean is....I'm excited because he's coming back to work. He's getting better. He's back where he belongs."

Donna was a little surprised by Josh's sincerity and seriousness; she was so used to him downplaying his true inner feelings with sarcastic remarks.

Looking back at the past four weeks, Donna couldn't help but be excited that Sam was finally well enough to come back to work. After Josh had returned from New York the day after Sam woke up, his mind wasn't really on the job. Donna would constantly remind him that his best friend was going to be okay, but it didn't seem to be enough for him. It was only two days later, when Sam was transferred to GW, that Josh slowly started to be Josh again. Donna had gone with her boss to greet Sam back to Washington and the image of his hospital room popped into her mind. Actually, she couldn't see his room because of the wall-to-wall assortment of flowers, plants, balloons, stuffed toys and cards.

Sam was rarely left alone during his stay in the hospital. If it wasn't Josh, Toby, CJ or Mallory there with him, it was Cathy, Ginger, Bonnie or Donna herself. Being surrounded by the people who were closest to him made all the difference in the world for Sam, and that, Donna was sure of.

After spending two weeks in total in the hospital, Sam was finally released with strict orders to take it easy. His head was still a little fuzzy and he still had dizzy spells, and his ribs were still quite painful, but the pneumonia was a thing of the past. 

Donna could still hear Toby and Josh speaking to Sam over the phone, teasing him by talking with a pirate accent, referring to the fact that he had to wear a black patch over his healing eye. She knew it was their way of showing their relief.

'The Misadventures of Sam Seaborn on the High Seas' had become a wide spread topic of conversation throughout the White House during the few weeks following the incident. With the help of the Coast Guard, they were able to fill in, to a certain extent, the gaps in Sam's memory regarding what had happened that afternoon. The fact that his life jacket and a rope tied around his waist had most probably saved his life made every one thank God for small mercies.

Everyone was relieved when they found out the results of Sam's eye test. There didn't seem to be any long-term effects, but he would have to have the right lens of his glasses adjusted, to compensate for a slight decrease in his vision caused by the acute glaucoma.

During Sam's absence, Donna noticed her boss often making his way to the Communications Bullpen for absolutely no reason. He would pass by Sam's office, come back to his own, and get on the phone at call him at home. Looking back at all that, Donna realized Josh had good reason to be excited. Just the fact that he had organized this little surprise welcome back party for his best friend was a sure sign.

"I'm excited too," she finally said to him. Standing not far from her desk, she heard her phone ring. She gave Josh a smile and quickly walked over to her desk.

"Josh Lyman' s office," she said, picking up the phone. "Thank you!" she replied after a moment, quickly hanging up. " _Josh_!" she yelled.

Josh came running back down the hall. "Are they here?"

"They just pulled up to the gate," she answered.

"Call Margaret, tell her to tell Leo and the President. And tell CJ. Okay, everybody. They're on their way in. Let's get ready. This isn't a drill, people," Josh yelled, making his way towards the Communications Bullpen.

 

 

 

"Toby, I'm telling you. You don't have to come and pick me up every morning. I can get a cab. Besides, it's out of your way," said Sam, walking down the long corridors of the West Wing towards the Communications Bullpen.

"Sam, I'm picking you up and that's it. So you better have your butt ready at seven-thirty sharp for the next two weeks."

Sam sighed heavily. "Okay," he said, giving up an already lost battle. "But I'm putting my foot down about driving me to physiotherapy."

"I'm not going to drive you to physio."

"Good," replied Sam with a smile, proud to have won at least one battle.

"Josh is," Toby added.

"Ahhhh. I can't wait for these two weeks to be over so I drive myself around again," said Sam, who never felt very comfortable having people doing things for him like this, even if they were his closest friends. In his eyes, they had all gone through enough because of him in the last few weeks.

"Sam, you can complain all you want, but that's the way it's going to be, whether you like it or not, so just shut up about it," said Toby in his usual dry tone. "And just because your doctor said you can drive again in two weeks, how are you going to do it properly with your arm in a cast and a sling?"

"Well, in two weeks, I won't have to use the sling anymore and....with the cast, I'll manage," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"We'll see about that," his boss replied, as they reached the entrance to the Bullpen.

"Toby, I'm not...."

" _Surprise_!" everyone in the room yelled, interrupting Sam in his defiant reply to Toby.

The look on his face at that moment was priceless. Sam, his plaster-encased arm supported in a sling under his suit jacket, the left side of his face still sporting marks of his encounter with the mast of his ship, including a now-healing thin pink scar above his eye and across his temple, simply stood there, his mouth open in wonderment. Before him, hanging on the wall, a huge banner with 'Welcome Back, Sam!' written on it in colorful letters, balloons hanging left and right. 

"Hey, buddy!" exclaimed Josh, walking up to a shocked Sam.

Everyone was still gathered, staring at him, huge grins on all their faces, waiting for his reaction.

"I...I don't know what to say," Sam stuttered.

"The President' speechwriter, ladies and gentlemen," yelled Toby, playing with Sam's moment of speechlessness, causing everyone to laugh.

"Well, you can start by promising us that you'll never do that again," declared the President as he made his way into the crowded room with Leo right behind him.

"Mr. President, sir..." Sam managed to articulate, stumbling over his words.

"Sam," he said, shaking his good hand, "it's good to see you, young man. And from what I can see, everyone else here feels the same way," the President said, looking around the room.

"The feeling is very mutual, sir. Thank you."

The President gave him a once over and nodded in approval. "We missed you," he added before making his way through the crowd of staffers.

"Hey, there," came a familiar voice. Suddenly, at his side was Mallory.

"Well, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling her gently against him.

"I just wanted to be here for your first day back, to show my support...and to make sure you didn't overdo it, which I'm sure you're going to try to do," she said, looking up at him with a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

"So, did you know about this?"

"Me? Noooooo, of course not," she answered sarcastically.

Sam shook his head and grinned.

"Sam," Leo said, approaching his daughter and the young man.

"Leo," he replied with a smile. Normally, Sam would have let go of Mallory at this conjuncture, feeling uncomfortable showing any signs of intimacy with Leo's daughter in from of him. But that was then and this was now. Instead of letting go of her, he held her even closer.

"It's good to finally have you back, son," Leo said, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder, smiling warmly.

The fact that Leo had addressed him as 'son' didn't go unnoticed by Sam, nor by Mallory, who discretely squeezed his hand. Obviously the conversation Mallory had had with her father borne fruit.

"It's good to be back. Believe it or not, I actually missed this place."

"Coming from you, Sam, I believe it. Oh, by the way, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. Remember when I told you that the next time you go sailing to hold on to a rope or something?" He glanced at Mallory for a moment, then back at Sam. "Well, you have no idea how happy I am to know that you actually listened to me this time."

Sam looked down at Mallory, who was smiling back at her father.

"So am I, Leo. So am I," he replied, not taking his eyes off the woman he loved.

"You kids be good now," Leo said before joining the rest of the group.

"Do you think he meant it or did he just say it, well, because...." Sam asked Mallory.

"No, I think he truly meant it. He told me whatever makes me happy, makes him happy. And I'll let you know, I am very, very, very happy."

"So am I," he replied.

Together, they made their way into the crowd of staffers waiting to welcome back the Deputy Communications Director.

 

The End

 

  


End file.
